


Black Banners Raised

by Joyous32



Series: Centuries [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 50,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyous32/pseuds/Joyous32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Les Amis have lived for two hundred years and are living now in a society in which celebrities are gods, soldiers are servants and medication is illegal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears on Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre has good news, Enjolras is quiet and Eponine is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of PTSD, medication usage, suicide, and sex.

_"Are we growing up or just going down?_

_It's just a matter of time_

_Until we're all found out."_

_-"Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

"That doesn't make sense."

"It's poetry; it doesn't make sense to the outward eye." Enjolras scribbled away as Eponine lay across the desk next to him.

"Enjolras, you should stick with music." Eponine wrinkled her nose.

"Poetry can transform…into music." Enjolras finished as he finished a line and smiled down at it in triumph.

"Courage and onward?" Eponine raised an eyebrow and Enjolras looked away from her. "I thought you didn't remember the barricades?"

"The barricades I remember vividly. The moments before are the ones I…no longer recall." Enjolras twisted the pen between his fingers before continuing to write. "Why are here? This room is for silence."

"'This room is for silence'." Eponine mocked him and rolled her eyes. "’The office’, you say, but guess what your room's for?" She glared at him and he sighed, putting the pen down and folding his hands together as he stared her down.

"Is there something you need?" He asked.

"Entertain me." She responded teasingly and he rolled his eyes as Combeferre came bursting into the room.

"Javert found Cosette!" He announced.

"Alive?"

"Yes, alive and with her mother!" Combeferre ran over and gave Enjolras a hug from behind as Enjolras grunted.

"Great. Now, we have to find Bahorel."

"Oh, no, Gav found Bahorel." Eponine bit her lip as Enjolras stared her down flatly.

"Javert also found Marius. Musichetta and Bossuet are doing it upstairs. Jehan's at the psychiatric ward. Grantaire's moving into town tomorrow." Combeferre nodded. They both glanced at Enjolras, who had gone back to writing.

"This time through, we also have a cause. An important one."

"All causes are important. Some just happen to connect to certain people differently." Enjolras replied quietly.

"And this one affects everyone, thus its connection to everyone. Celebrities shouldn't be treated like gods and soldiers like dogs. And a little bit of medication shouldn't make you a pariah." Eponine explained and Enjolras ignored her. Eponine and Combeferre glanced at each other.

"Enjolras, this could be it." Combeferre reminded him and he hummed in response. "Doesn't that excite you?" He offered.

"Who out of that number actually remembers?" Enjolras turned to look up to Combeferre with old eyes. Though everyone's bodies had stayed young and fit, he still had seen enough and been through enough for it to show on his face. He had died too many times fighting a government that celebrities controlled, ending in their reign. And thus, Enjolras's oration skills being placed in songs that would entertain. After all, nowadays, entertainment was all anyone was after.

"I'll tell Javert you're thankful then." Combeferre muttered under his breath as he left the room, motioning with his head for Eponine to follow. "Do you know if he's taken his PTSD medication today?" Combeferre asked her and she shrugged.

"You realize that the doctors around you guys are going to start getting suspicious." Eponine replied as they entered the kitchen. As Combeferre opened the fridge, Eponine jumped up and sat on the counter.

"What do you have against chairs?" Combeferre asked when he turned back to her with a container of sausages in hand. She glared and scooted down into the chair across the bar from him. "Half a pill each once every two days should not be that suspicious."

"For five people?" Eponine raised an eyebrow as Combeferre bit into a sausage and offered her one. "That's enough for one and a half extra people a month."

"Maybe we can ask Gav to steal some more." Combeferre muttered under his breath as Eponine waved away the package of sausages.

"Yeah, he'd be glad to, but I don't want him in jail."

"It's not like this would be his first robbery. And we need it."

"I know, doc. But people seem to see medication as a crime nowadays, remember?" Eponine smiled sarcastically at him.

"How are you?" He asked and she blinked.

"Fine."

"No, really, how are you? You're the only one out of us all that isn't taking medication." Combeferre walked around the bar to sit beside her, slightly too close.

"Javert and Gavroche." She stared him down even though she was shorter than him.

"Javert just kills himself when he feels run down and Gavroche probably steals what he needs. And after what those freaks did to you-"

"I'm fine." Eponine snapped and Combeferre sighed.

"Would you say if you weren't?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.

"Combeferre, I am fine. My childhood prepared me for all that's happening now."

"Do you remember?" Combeferre asked quietly. They all tended to avoid the conversations that took them back over two hundred years. Those who remembered wished they could forget and those who forgot wished that they remembered.

"Yeah." Eponine raised her eyebrows as she avoided eye contact.

"What was aging like?" Combeferre asked, his voice catching. She looked to him, but his face betrayed no emotion.

"You feel how tired your mind is?" She asked and he nodded. "Like that, but everywhere. Anyway, I was too young to feel age getting to me. All I felt was puberty." She smirked and he smiled back.

"Right. How old were you when you died?"

"Oh goodness, I didn't know how old I was at the time. Maybe, seventeen, eighteen?" She shrugged and he pressed his lips together.

"You look older." He commented and she swatted at him playfully.

"Thanks, just what everyone wants to hear."

"Well, all of us want to." He smirked.

"That's true. You've no idea how many times I've been carded. Technically, I'm over two hundred, so, deal." She giggled and fell onto his shoulder as he smiled back down, the wrinkles prominent around his eyes. "Do you know how old you were?"

"I don't even remember." Combeferre muttered under his breath. In walked Musichetta and Bossuet and Combeferre raised an eyebrow at them. "Keep it down, next time? Or I'll have to tell Joly."

"Oh, he knows." Musichetta answered with a giggle and Eponine wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, really, just keep it to yourself." She responded, sighing.

"Changing the subject completely, I thought I heard yelling?" Bossuet asked as he tossed Musichetta a coke from the fridge.

"Must have been you, seeing as Enjolras has taken a vow of silence." Eponine informed him as Musichetta sat in her lap. Eponine rolled her eyes and attempted to braid Musichetta's hair.

"Sounds like him." Bossuet answered, plopping down on the couch behind them.

"Didn't always." Combeferre replied. "We've found everyone now. Enjolras is upset because so few remember."

"Grantaire, Bahorel, Jehan sometimes, Marius, Cosette?" Musichetta listed off.

"Yeah."

"None remember?"

"Except us." Bossuet winked at Musichetta, who blew him a kiss in response, going and flipping over the couch and into his lap.

"Bossuet, you've got dinner duty." Combeferre informed him and Bossuet giggled.

"You said 'duty'."

"Yay! Chinese takeout!" Musichetta replied and Eponine laughed. Combeferre smiled at them and then went back into the office room, sitting at the desk opposite to Enjolras.

"Now. How to jog a memory." Combeferre stated and saw Enjolras look up at him from under his eyebrows.


	2. Mockingbirds Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Cosette's birthday and Marius has several surprises for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of asthma. Warning: It's cheesy because it's Marius and Cosette and they are the biggest fairy tale ever portrayed in a tragedy.

_"We're the therapists pumping through your speakers  
Delivering just what you need…_

_I'll keep singing this lie if you'll keep believing it"_

_-"Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

"Marius!" Cosette squealed and threw her arms around him. He smiled, hugging her back tightly. "What are you doing here?" She asked. "Not that I'm not please to see you. I am. I really am! But I thought you had extra work?" She squeezed his hand, pulling away to smile at him as she pulled him into the apartment.

"Clever lie. Your parents asked me to come. It's a surprise for you. For your birthday." He explained and she giggled excitedly, leading him into the kitchen where Fantine was making dinner.

"Look who showed up, Ma!" Cosette exclaimed and Fantine smiled.

"Marius! So good to see you!" Fantine commented. "Your father should be home any minute; he had a meeting." She informed her daughter, who nodded.

"Can we go practice?" Cosette asked her mother, who nodded with a smile. "Did you bring your guitar?" Cosette asked as she and Marius entered the living room.

"No, but you have yours." He remarked and she nodded.

"Oh, and I wrote something! I know it's your job and I'm the singer, but…"

"You can write, Cosette. Your mind is beautiful; you should put it to paper so others can hear." Marius explained and Cosette cooed, placing the paper on the couch as she pulled out her guitar.

"No looking!" She exclaimed when he reached for the paper. He pulled away and sat back down in the armchair across from her. He watched with a content smile as she began strumming.

_Beautiful dolls, golden affairs_

_Swaddling clothes made of red and of blue_

_Children of the sun_

_They are a one that I wished to be_

_But playtime and laughter forever hereafter_

_Were no good to me_

_Like a butterfly wing lived in the spring_

_But then fell in the fall_

_However I was born with a sword in my hand and a shield by my side_

_And so the battle began waging a way against tyranny_

_Longing for the freedom to breathe_

_But they cut out my lungs and threw them over my shoulders_

_Causing all anger to seethe_

_Will I breathe again?_

_Tell me this, my friend?_

_Will the killers of our hearts ever die?_

_Or will I in my depths of despair_

_Lying six feet under, no air_

_Become one of the dolls_

_The children of the sun_

_Golden affairs_

_Swaddling clothes tainted red_

_With a face painted blue_

 

Then she glanced up at him from under her eyebrows, waiting for a response. He stared back in shock. "Cosette, that was beautiful." He gave her a careful smile and she grinned back before frowning.

"You didn't like it."

"No, I love it, but…are you sure it's appropriate? With all that's been going on lately?" He asked and she shrugged.

"We may no longer have the freedom to pursue individual happiness, but we can still exercise our freedom of speech." She suggested and he inhaled sharply.

"Have your parents heard this?" He asked and she nodded.

"Marius, we might meet Marble Liberty. I want to have at least one song to our name that deals with something more important than love."

"Marble Liberty isn't as well known as we are. We don't need to impress him."

"I want to. I want people to know that we care about what they're going through as well as what they feel."

"This song practically announces to the world that you have breathing problems." Marius commented and Cosette looked down at her hands.

"I could say that it's a metaphor."

"And ML has an advantage in that he's never actually shown his face to the public before. You could become a target, Cosette." Marius finished and Cosette inhaled deeply.

"What if I don't care?" Cosette asked, looking up to Marius finally.

"I do." Marius reminded her and Cosette blinked. "And remember what your father says, 'what you do affects others just as much as yourself'." She smirked up at him. "And in this case, 'others' includes me." He commented and she giggled, jumping into his lap and kissing him.

"Father in the room." A voice called from behind them and they looked over to see Javert.

"Baba!" Cosette stood and hugged Javert, barely reaching his chin. He chuckled and hugged her back.

"I see your special guest has arrived." Javert commented and Cosette nodded.

"Dinner's ready!" Fantine called from the kitchen.

"It smells good, too." Javert winked at Cosette, who smiled back as he kissed her hair and the three of them entered the kitchen, sitting around the dinner table as Javert helped Fantine serve, but not before kissing her.

"Ew." Cosette and Marius exclaimed together, laughing all the while.

"Oh, that was nothing compared to what you two were doing just now." Javert responded and Cosette giggled hysterically as Marius's face turned bright red. Fantine narrowed her eyes at them and then glanced at Javert with a smirk. "Not really." He whispered in her ear and she giggled, pushing him away as she continued to put food on the plates that Javert placed on the kitchen table.

After they finished eating, Cosette moved to do the dishes, but Javert stopped her. "I think I'll get them tonight. And I think that Marius has another surprise for you." Javert narrowed his eyes and smirked at Marius, who turned red before reaching down to his pockets and then standing.

"Um, yes. Cosette, I know it's sudden, but we have known each other since we were kids, so I figured it wouldn't be entirely unexpected. But um. Yeah. So, Cosette, will you marry me?" Marius got down on one knee as proposed and Cosette slapped her hand over her grin.

"Yes! Yes!" She shouted, wrapping her arms around his neck, both of them falling onto the floor in the process. They giggled and kissed as Marius placed the ring on her finger. When they finally stood, they realized that Fantine was videoing the entire encounter.

"Oh, no." Marius exclaimed.

"Oh, yes."

"You mean my stuttering's going to be on camera forever?" Marius complained and Fantine giggled, shutting the camera off.

"I'm so happy for you both." She walked over and wrapped them both up in her arms. "Oh! Cosette! We can find you a place to get a henna tattoo of your names, and the sari, um, well, I will help you find one for her, Marius."

"That is, if he doesn't mind." Cosette gave her mother a look and Fantine narrowed her eyes.

"Of course he doesn't mind. He's bought you saris before; they're just never all that beautiful." Fantine explained and Javert chortled as Marius looked down in defeat, a teasing smile on his face. Fantine continued talking about the marriage as Cosette strummed her guitar, watching her family laugh and talk with one another. All was well.


	3. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert, Enjolras and Combeferre talk about goals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of prostitution, and smoking.

_“We’ve been here forever_

_And here’s the frozen proof_

_I could scream forever_

_We are the poisoned youth.”_

_-"Centuries" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California**

“Do you remember how we met?” Javert asked as Fantine took off her earrings. She smiled at him through the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“I was an illegal prostitute and you caught me.”

“No, not that time.” Javert muttered and Fantine laughed. “We met in a bar. You propositioned me and I informed you that I would never take advantage of you.” Fantine turned to see that Javert had brought two filled wine glasses.

“Then I told you that it wasn’t taking advantage if you paid me.” Fantine responded. “And you offered me a drink. Because getting me drunk was the only way you’d find out where I lived.”

“That’s how I found out that you didn’t have a place to live.”

“So I came and stayed with you.” Fantine answered, clinking her wine glass against his. “Why are you bringing that inappropriate story up?”

“Just…remembering. Marius commented on how they’d known each other for so long and it got me thinking. Will you tell me about Cosette’s father?” Javert asked quietly, nuzzled into her shoulder.

“No.” Fantine stood, downing the rest of the wine and then entering the bathroom. Before she shut the door, she turned to face him. “Are you leaving early again tomorrow?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“Make sure you come home.” She demanded and he smiled back, nodding. She blew him a kiss and then shut the door as he sighed. He grabbed a cigarette and a lighter off of the dresser and stepped out onto the patio.

Even though he was on the second floor, he could see nothing other than the windows across from him. He disliked it. There was no way to know what was going on outside of the street they looked out onto.

“Tag, you’re it.” He heard a voice and whipped around to see a masked Enjolras.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked as Enjolras pulled himself over the railing and onto the patio beside Javert.

“Well, I was looking for you, but I found you, so now I’m talking to you.” Enjolras informed him and Javert glared.

“Why are you dressed like a robber, you idiot?” Javert snapped.

“I’m not a robber; I’m a superhero. Or at least, that’s what the newspapers are calling me.”

“You’re the Patriot?” Javert asked and then rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. What are you doing here?”

“Combeferre said that you found Cosette. What he didn’t say was that you helped make her.” Enjolras looked into the room, but Javert pushed him out of Fantine’s view.

“I’m not her real father.” Javert whispered back.

“Oh?”

“No. Fantine was pregnant when I met her. Now, we’re married.”

“And you’ve neglected to tell us that for, what, eighteen years now?”

“I wanted to be sure that Cosette met your criteria, Enjolras.” Javert snapped back.

“Yeah, call me Patriot. Much more badass.” Enjolras responded and Javert groaned.

“You know, I should be calling the police.”

“You are the police. And how long have you been looking for me now? Anyway, why do you care what criteria Cosette meets?” Enjolras asked.

“I want out of this damn curse just as bad as you do.” Javert growled.

“You don’t even believe us.”

“Combeferre’s convincing.” Javert answered and Enjolras tilted his head.

“You’re not going to tell me what you mean by that, are you?” Enjolras inquired.

“You’re going to go straight to Combeferre to get answers directly after I tell you no, aren’t you?” Javert mimicked and Enjolras shrugged.

“Not directly after.”

“What do you want, Enjolras?”

“Do any of them remember?”

“No.”

“Have you tried to make them?”

“No, actually. Well, I tried with Fantine at first, but then…no. They don’t need to know.”

“They need to be able to fix the curses upon themselves.”

“They have!” Javert snapped and could sense Enjolras furrowing his eyebrows together. Javert breathed roughly for a moment and then managed to relax himself enough to sigh. “Fantine needed to settle in a nice home to raise her daughter. Cosette needed a happy family. And Marius-well I’m not entirely sure there, but I know that he’s happy here. Your guys’ little revolution doesn’t need to interfere with our family life.”

“Careful, Javert, you almost sound like you care.” Enjolras glared.

“I do.” He barked back and Enjolras took a step back. “For them. I do.” Javert decided.

“Don’t keep information from us again, Javert. I will find out and there will be consequences.” Enjolras informed him and grabbed onto the overhanging roof, flipping onto the roof and out of sight completely.

A few hours later, Combeferre stood from his desk. He walked quietly up the stairs and cracked Eponine’s door, checking to see if she was still there. He worried about her. She was so lonely and it couldn’t possibly be good for her no matter how she protested. Nobody should be alone, Combeferre knew now.

“You know, you should really just tell her how you feel.” He heard Enjolras’s voice from behind him and jumped.

“What…ugh.” Combeferre groaned and shut Eponine’s door, stomping into his room instead. He had hoped that Enjolras would get the message and leave him alone, but Enjolras was as oblivious as ever.

“What does Javert have to do to reverse his part of the curse?” Enjolras asked as Combeferre took off his shirt, getting ready for bed since it was well after midnight.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Combeferre asked.

“I did.” Enjolras responded and Combeferre pulled out some pajama bottoms. Enjolras waited for an answer and Combeferre raised his eyes. Blinking, Enjolras understood and turned around. “I kind of thought that we had passed that level of awkwardness, seeing as we’ve taken turns undressing each other from blood or vomit covered clothes. And you know, done other things.” Enjolras added with a shrug.

“So, you asked Javert and he didn’t tell you, correct?” Combeferre asked, ignoring Enjolras’s additional comment.

“Correct.”

“And now, you’ve come to me under the impression that I’d tell you since you’re my best friend and confidante?”

“It’s not just an impression if it’s true.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow and turned back around, figuring that Combeferre had had enough time to change by now. Combeferre sighed as he shoved his clothes into his laundry basket.

“Javert spent his whole first life unable to find the upside of mercy. You’ve been to his house?”

“Yes.”

“He was merciful to Fantine. He was able to be compassionate for once and now, he has learned the lesson that whatever is out there wants him to learn.” Combeferre explained and Enjolras thought this through. “Can I go to sleep now?” Combeferre asked and Enjolras blinked, looking up to him as if searching for a reason not to leave.

“Did you get any further on how to make Grantaire remember?” Enjolras asked, swaying slightly on his feet.

“No. I had to clean up after dinner.” Combeferre informed him and Enjolras looked down to the floor before crawling into Combeferre’s bed. Combeferre rolled his eyes with a pitying smile and turned off the lights before lying down beside his friend, who had almost immediately fallen asleep.


	4. Sewage of Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel and Gavroche rob people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics from "The Oppressed Song" by Bob Marley  
> Mentions of homelessness and kleptomania.

_“Get hitched, make a career out of robbing banks_   
_Because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks_   
_"You broke our spirit,” says the note we pass”_

_-"The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“ _The man oppressed will seem to do the worst, but with all he possesses self preservation comes first_!” Bahorel sang as he rooted through another trashcan, dancing to the nonexistent beat.

“Roar!” He jumped back and fell onto the trashcan as Gavroche appeared in front of him.

“Gavin!” Bahorel held his hands out in greeting and Gavroche helped him stand.

“It’s Gavroche!” Gavroche reminded him.

“That’s a mouthful!”

“You’re one to talk.” Gavroche gave him a look. “What does ‘hercle’ mean?”

“What are you on about?” Bahorel replied and Gavroche shrugged.

“Someone called me ‘hercle’ and now I want to know what it means.” Gavroche insisted.

“Well, why didn’t you ask them?”

“Because they were trying to steal my bread.” Gavroche held it out and Bahorel took it.

“Did you steal it first?” Bahorel asked as he looked it over and Gavroche kicked him in the shin, stealing it back from Bahorel as the man dramatically doubled over in fake pain.

“Yeah.”

“Well, there you go, they were justified then.” Bahorel decided and opened another trashcan lid, humming the rest of his song.

“Oi, I’ve got a better place to eat than here.” Gavroche informed him and Bahorel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. My sister’s friends own this big old mansion out in the hills.”

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t want her dead.” Gavroche shrugged.

“So can we steal the rich stuff?” Bahorel asked and Gavroche smirked.

“We wouldn’t have to steal it. The guys who bought it give things freely. You ever heard of the Patriot?”

“Fella saved my ass a few times.” Bahorel shrugged and Gavroche stopped from rolling his eyes even though he knew Bahorel was lying. Together, they strolled into a whole foods market.

“It’s his house.” Gavroche stole a grape off a grape vine as Bahorel pretended to inspect which would be the best fruit, shoving some into his giant jacket.

“Not true. The Patriot wouldn’t live in a mansion. Anyway he’s just a myth.”

“I thought you said he saved your ass?”

“Well, he did. It’s more of the idea of him, you know?” Bahorel asked.

“No.” Gavroche answered and Bahorel narrowed his eyes, biting into an apple and giving the seller the same look that he was giving him.

“It’s mine.” He told the seller. “Good.” He patted Gavroche on the head and Gavroche punched him in the side. The apples in Bahorel’s jacket stopped his fist from connecting, but Bahorel didn’t even seem to notice.

“My sis is coming to pick me up around noon. You could come along. She’d like you.”

“Is she pretty?” Bahorel asked and this time, Gavroche rolled his eyes so hard that Bahorel lost sight of his irises.

“Pretty good at kicking ass.” Gavroche informed him as he stole an apple from Bahorel’s coat. Bahorel didn’t stop him, but patted Gavroche’s mouth, almost knocking him over with pure brunt force.

“Watch your mouth.”

“You never watch yours!”

“I’m older.”

“No, you’re not. I’m two hundred years old and you’re only twenty something or other.”

“Liars don’t make friends.” Bahorel commented as he nicked a banana off a cart. Gavroche didn’t bother trying to correct the phrase. “Ooh. See those?” Bahorel pointed to some diamonds in the window of a jewelry store. “I’m going to get some and then propose to old Ashley down on 3rd Street.”

“Nah. You’re gonna sell them for half the price.”

“Double!” Bahorel gave the boy an offended look, but Gavroche raised an eyebrow. “Half.” Bahorel shrugged and strolled into the store with Gavroche following close behind.

Inside, Gavroche ran around for a second and then faked running into a glass cabinet that popped open under the force. He fell to the floor and began to cry, screaming for his mother. A crowd appeared and in the pushing and pulling, Bahorel managed to sneak a jewel before rushing out of the bleeping store. Gavroche stayed put, knowing that Bahorel was a man of his word, no matter how stupid his word was or silent it was. Gavroche would get half of the half.

Eventually, a woman was calling the number that Eponine had set up for exactly this purpose so that she’d call again and again, reaching the voicemail of Gavroche’s supposed mother. Once the police had arrived and Gavroche had a bag of ice to place on his head, the woman was distracted enough that Gavroche managed to sneak back out of the store, sucking on an ice cube as he went.

He and Bahorel met up at 3rd Street, Bahorel with less money than expected, but that was to be expected when a clear hobo attempts to sell diamonds. “We feast today!” Bahorel announced and they went to buy pizza, some new clothes and lottery tickets that gained them nothing.

“If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?” Gavroche asked. They were both resting against a pile of rugs that they found dumped on the side of the road and were drowsy with the amount of food eaten.

“Hmm. Make millions of more dollars.” Bahorel replied. “You?”

“Give it to you.” Gavroche shrugged and Bahorel chuckled.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Gavroche smiled back.

“What if you could change one thing in the world?” Gavroche continued.

“I’d change the sun so that it’s not so hot in the summer and that it sticks around for longer in the winter.” Bahorel remarked and Gavroche swatted at him.

“The sun’s not in the world, stupid.”

“Don’t you call me stupid; I went to high school.”

“For like, a year.” Gavroche added.

“That’s more than you.”

“Yeah, but I read a lot of books.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Bahorel sighed.

“Try again. One thing in the world.” Gavroche insisted and Bahorel looked at him.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I do. Why won’t you answer?”

“I’ll answer. I’ll answer.” Bahorel replied and sighed again as he thought about it. “I’d put sad people back together. Make them less jagged on the outside by sealing those jagged edges together. Like a puzzle.”

“Not try for more millions of dollars?” Gavroche asked.

“Millions of dollars don’t exist. They just…keep on not existing. That’s their purpose. That way nobody ever gets outta debt when they’re stupid enough to pay a million dollars. And then- can I have one more change for the world?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d get rid of money. That way, everyone shared and everything went back to the way it was.”

“Way it was when?”

“When there wasn’t money, stupid.”

“I’m not stupid, you’re stupid. We’ve always had money.”

“No, we used to trade!”

“And that was the money!” Gavroche rolled his eyes, smirking at Bahorel, who laughed back. “Oh, there’s my sister’s car.” Gavroche sat up and shoved his extra clothes into his raggedy sack.

“There’s a man in that car.” Bahorel pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s the Patriot.” Gavroche waved him over and the car approached them.

“I still don’t think he exists.” Bahorel stood and stretched.

“Well, he does and he’s right there.” Gavroche pointed and Bahorel giggled.

“I don’t see nobody!” He announced and Gavroche pushed him. Bahorel fell a little ways, but then followed the boy to the car, getting in the backseat with him.


	5. How You Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras explains to Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of stalking, killing, deaths, and suicide.

_“And I miss you in the June gloom, too_

_I said I’d never miss you_

_But I guess you never know_

_May the bridges I have burned light my way back home_

_On the fourth of July_

_I’ll be as honest as you let me”_

_-"Fourth of July" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

“You’re Grantaire?” Eponine asked when he entered. He looked like he did two hundred years ago though shorter, otherwise Eponine would not have assumed that this was Grantaire.

“Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you; I’m Eponine.” Eponine held out her hand and Grantaire shook it heartily. “You don’t look like a dancer.”

“You don’t look old enough to be my boss.” Grantaire countered and Eponine smirked.

“Come on.” She gestured back into the studio. “This is Feuilly, my dancer partner.” Feuilly waved as he stretched. “We’re the only ones here today, so introductions are short. Basically, this is the studio, changing rooms are through that door and I’m sure you saw the theater on your way back.” Eponine shrugged and Grantaire nodded.

“Okay.”

“Do you have a place to stay yet?” Eponine asked and Grantaire looked to her in confusion for a second.

“I’m at a hotel until I can find a house, why?” Grantaire asked.

“Don’t pay for a hotel; come stay with us for free. Have you ever heard of Marble Liberty?” Eponine asked and Grantaire took a second to organize his thoughts.

“Um, yes.”

“Yeah, he’s a millionaire and we live with him in his mansion.” Eponine finished, motioning to Feuilly and herself.

“I don’t normally take shelter from strangers.”

“You probably don’t normally need to.” Feuilly pointed out.

“And you’re all good with this?” Grantaire asked, motioning from Feuilly to Eponine.

“Yeah. ML suggested it when we said we got someone coming in from Moreno.” Feuilly explained.

“’Cause it’s a poor area?”

“Because everyone is poorer than we are.” Eponine corrected and Grantaire nodded slowly.

Soon after, they were driving over to the hotel to pick up Grantaire’s things and then made their way home. Once they reached the driveway, Grantaire sat in shocked silence. Enjolras stepped out of the house and waited by the door as Gavroche rushed out, waving.

“Is that your butler?” Grantaire asked in awe.

“No, that’s Marble Liberty. Real name, Enjolras.”

“Marble Liberty’s easier to say.” Grantaire muttered under his breath as Feuilly parked.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Feuilly chuckled.

“Hey Gav.” Eponine nodded to Gavroche, who ran over and hugged her. She stopped from showing her shock and hugged back.

“Hi, you must be Grantaire. I’m Enjolras.” Enjolras held out his hand and Grantaire just stared, jaw dropped. “Um, do you remember me?” Enjolras suggested after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah.” Grantaire replied and Enjolras’s face lit up as he reached forward, but Grantaire stepped away. “You’re my angel.” He finished and Enjolras’s smile faded as he thought through this.

“Your angel?” Eponine asked in confusion, raising her eyebrows at him.

“What the hell? How have you not changed a single part of you? Shouldn’t you be like, dead?”

“Enjolras?” Eponine called.

“If I was twenty at the time, I’d be thirty now; that hardly warrants a death sentence.” Enjolras muttered and turned to glance at Feuilly, who was staring with worried eyes and stepped over to place his hand on Enjolras’s arm.

“Why is no one else confused by the idea of Enjolras as an angel?” Eponine added.

“Because he’s freaking hot?” Gavroche suggested and his sister looked down to him in confusion. “What? I’m straight and I see this; I don’t know how you missed it.”

“Come on inside.” Enjolras motioned to the house without looking in Grantaire’s eyes.

“Um, no. You can explain this now, or I’m running and screaming.” Grantaire informed him and Enjolras gave him a look.

“And then you’d be placed in a psychiatric ward.” Enjolras remarked and Grantaire glared.

“Well, nice meeting you. Actually, no it wasn’t. It was terrifying. I’m leaving now.” Grantaire turned, but Enjolras grabbed his arm.

“No, listen.” He demanded, his voice cracking. Grantaire looked to him and narrowed his eyes.

“Who hurt you so badly that you connect to me? And my crappy life.” Grantaire questioned and Enjolras actually choked down a sob, the first emotion he had shown since Grantaire died last time through. Feuilly and Eponine both jumped to attention, trying to find a way to fix him.

“Please.” Enjolras whispered. “Just hear me out.”

“Are you an angel?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras shook his head. Sighing, Grantaire allowed Enjolras to lead the way.

“Where’s Bahorel?” Enjolras asked as they entered the house. Grantaire gawked at the two stairwells that paved a way to the bedroom doors that circled the upper level of the kind of parlor that they had entered.

“In that living room.” Gavroche pointed under the stairs to the back room.

“Okay, so we’ll go in this one.” Enjolras gestured to his right. “Can you bring us food?” He asked Eponine, who nodded and headed off through the first living room mentioned.

“You have two living rooms?”

“Technically we have four.” Enjolras responded and Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced around.

“Well, you’re just rolling in it, aren’t you? Is that because you’re immortal?” Grantaire questioned and Enjolras tilted his head as they sat in the living room. Gavroche had gone with his sister, so Feuilly was left to supervise the two of them.

“How’d you guess?”

“No, you see, you were supposed to say, ‘I’m not immortal; that was my older brother you saw all those years ago’.” Grantaire informed him and Enjolras pressed his lips together.

“Do you remember Feuilly?” Enjolras gestured to him and Feuilly gave Enjolras a look.

“Why should I? Was he stalking me too?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Yes, you were.” Feuilly muttered an interruption and Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

“Technically-”

“You’ve killed, Enjolras; stalking isn’t that bad in comparison.”

“You’ve killed? Why haven’t you people called the cops on him?” Grantaire asked Feuilly.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Enjolras grumbled out.

“I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Enjolras changed the subject and Grantaire stood.

“Yes, sure. Now, I’m going to go call the cops because I think they would like to visit you.” Grantaire informed him and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“You’re looking at me right now and you remember seeing me like this ten years ago. It’s not aging cream or something, I can tell you that. I am immortal. I was born in 1805 and died in the June Rebellion of Paris. Then I died in World War I and then again in World War III. But I keep coming back. Just as my friends do. And just as you keep doing.”

“That’s not immortality, that’s reincarnation.”

“No, I wake up the same age with the same memories, though they’ve faded over the years. You were born in 1803 and died in the June Rebellion with me. You took my hand and died with me. I woke up, but you were born again in 1916, after which, you died in 1945. Again, 1976, you were born and died in 2005. And now, again, you’re alive. But this time, you have a chance at surviving past twenty nine, if you just let me help you.” Enjolras insisted and Grantaire stared blankly.

“You died and then woke back up?”

“Yes.”

“Zombies.”

“Be serious.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Really?”

“No.” Grantaire countered and Enjolras stared blankly as he tried to work through this. “I am twenty nine.” Grantaire pointed out and Enjolras winced.

“I know. It’s time to change things.”

“What things and how?”

“Well, our societal class ranking, for one. America’s turned logic on its head. Society normally has a large middle class and smaller lower and upper classes. We have a huge lower class, a slightly smaller upper class and then a minuscule middle class.”

“Yeah, well, everything’s deteriorating.” Grantaire informed him.

“You have to get rid of that mindset.” Enjolras pointed a finger at him and Grantaire narrowed his eyes in confusion. “You’ve always had it and that’s what-” Enjolras stopped and inhaled sharply.

“Your cynicism has killed you every time as far as we know.” Feuilly explained and Grantaire waited for an explanation.

“You said I died with you.” He pointed out.

“Yes. But you could’ve ran. You chose to stay because you saw nothing else to live for than for me.” Enjolras faded slightly and looked to his shoes before looking back up and gulping. “That’s what you told me the second time through anyway.”

“I remembered these things the second time through?”

“And the third. Why, do you still not, now?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire shrugged.

“How’d I die in 1945?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras winced.

“You slit your wrists.” Enjolras informed him and Grantaire raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like me.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Enjolras shouted and Grantaire tensed. “Don’t you ever say that! You are going to live a long life past your twenties with me! Happily ever after for once, okay? Give me that.”

“With you?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras placed his head in his hands. “How’d I die last time?”

“We don’t know. We were told suicide, but we were convinced it was murder in jail covered up by the policemen.” Feuilly explained for Enjolras.

“Were you and I a thing?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras shook his head slowly as Feuilly raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, you were. Enjolras didn’t see it for a good two hundred years, but yes, you were.”

“You see it now?”

“I saw it before you died. That’s why I was sure it couldn’t be suicide.” Enjolras remarked and Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “You probably don’t love me right now unless you remember.” Enjolras finished under his breath.

“Are you kidding me? You gave me a reason to live all those years ago. Death was an option for a while, but I remembered that I had an angel watching over me. I never really saw you again, but every glimpse of red made me stop.” Grantaire explained and Enjolras pressed his lips together.

“Do you believe me now?” He asked and Grantaire shrugged.

“I believe that you believe you. And Feuilly’s been the most level headed person I’ve come across today, so that adds points of believability.” Grantaire commented and Enjolras nodded before rushing over to sit beside Grantaire and hug him close as Grantaire patted his head in response, seeming confused, but saddened by the corpse of a man beside him.


	6. The Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras works with his agent and Musichetta on a music video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mentions of alcoholism and BDSM if you look closely.

_"We're throwing stones at a glass moon_

_We're so miserable and stunning_

_Love songs for the genuinely cunning,_

_We keep the beat with your blistered feet"_

_-“The Carpal Tunnel of Love” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California  
**

“Enjolras.” He grunted. “Enjolras?” Gavroche sang out.

“No.”

“There’s someone at the door. Says he’s your agent.” Gavroche informed him and Enjolras peered out from under his covers.

“Florence?” Enjolras muttered.

“Um, it was a man, I think.” Gavroche responded and Enjolras scoffed, rolling his eyes as he kicked the covers off. He rushed out of his room to see Florence standing in the doorway below.

“Come in, Clare.” Enjolras called, hurrying down the stairs.

“Call time’s in an hour.” The man responded as he shut the door behind himself.

“Clare’s a girl name too.” Gavroche commented as he slid down the railing of the stairwell.

“Clarence.” The man responded and then raised an eyebrow at Enjolras.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“You’re not dressed, Enjolras.” Clarence replied and Enjolras looked down to see that he was still in boxers and a ratty shirt.

“Clarence Florence?” Gavroche asked.

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” The man asked and Gavroche smirked.

“None, Clare.”

“Only he can call me that.” Clarence motioned to Enjolras, who had motioned for Clarence to make himself comfortable before rushing back upstairs to change.

“So what do I call you?” Gavroche asked, motioning with his head for Clarence to follow him into the back living room.

“Florence. Like everyone else in the world does.” Florence replied and Gavroche rolled his eyes.

“That’s still a girl name.”

“I don’t care. What’s yours, kid?”

“Gavroche. And I’m not a kid. I’m just small.” Gavroche replied and Florence raised an eyebrow.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“I don’t believe you.” Florence replied.

“I don’t care.” Gavroche countered and then skipped off to the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Enjolras stood in the entryway once more and Florence joined him. His hair was still a mess, but at least he brushed his teeth.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Florence asked.

“That’s why you love me.” Enjolras replied as he opened the front door to see Grantaire shuffling keys. They were standing less than a foot away from each other. “What are you doing out?” Enjolras asked and leaned in, sniffing as Grantaire replied.

“I was at the theater; stop sniffing me.” Grantaire replied and Enjolras stared for a moment, then he blinked.

“Great. Um, why?” Enjolras continued.

“I want to perform well.” Grantaire answered and Enjolras nodded slowly.

“Right. Uh, I’ll see you later. Got a recording.”

“Video.” Florence corrected.

“Video.” Enjolras repeated and then narrowed his eyes before allowing Grantaire to enter as he awkwardly stepped around him and walked out.

“By the way, Enjolras.” Grantaire held up a token. “I’ve been sober more than a year now.” He informed him and Enjolras stared back blankly as Grantaire shut the door behind them.

“Dude, could you be more obvious?” Florence asked and Enjolras shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Combeferre says no.”

“Do you think he knows?” Florence continued as he jumped in the driver’s seat of the car.

“I told him.” Enjolras raised an eyebrows sluggishly.

“Wow.” Florence commented and was silent for a few seconds. “And he doesn’t feel the same?”

“I figured I’d give him time to figure it out.” Enjolras shrugged.

“What?”

“We haven’t seen each other for more than a year.” Enjolras explained.

“And you’re already so sure that you’re in love with him?” Florence remarked and Enjolras gave a slight nod. “How?”

“Well, I had a whole year to consider it.” Enjolras shrugged and Florence sighed. “Now, how do you plan on putting me in a video without showing my face?”

“Masks.”

“Wonderful.”

“Or we could just, you know, never show your face. We also need to get in a live showing at some point. In which case, masks will most likely be used.”

“And a hood. And gloves.”

“I think everyone assumes you’re a white male, Enjolras. Anyway, Musichetta wanted to help with it all.”

“Why didn’t she come with us?”

“She’s been there since five this morning.” Florence replied and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” Enjolras sighed and stared out the window. “Can we get coffee?” He asked.

“No, it messes with your voice. There’s tea at the studio.” Florence answered and Enjolras groaned, but said no more on the subject.

“What song are we thinking?”

“Well, for the video, Musichetta was thinking _Overcome_ , but for the first live showing, we’ll do _Mountaintop_.”

“Makes sense.” Enjolras nodded. “Not like that’s going to deter any anger, though, if we’re appearing live directly after a video.”

“Shows your no-fear, reckless behavior rather well, doesn’t it?” Florence responded and Enjolras smirked as they pulled into the parking lot.

“Drink your tea and walk with me.” Enjolras had only entered the studio when Musichetta shoved the tea in his hand.

“You’re amazing.”

“You keep telling me that.”

“No reason to stop.” Enjolras countered.

“So, I’m thinking for _Overcome_ , we start and end with the shaky video of Lyndon saying his speech when he comes in and you fade out from your acapella session.”

“Okay.”

“And we have a selection of masks since we all know you’re not going to show your face.”

“Right.” Together, they walked into a closet the size of an apartment. Enjolras winced as he looked around and Musichetta pulled out a trunk.

“Choose one.” She flipped it open to show him a pile of masks.

“Instead of masks, we could dress him up as Lady Liberty.” Florence suggested and Musichetta and Enjolras turned to stare at him. “He’s got a feminine face and Liberty’s not all that feminine.”

“No.” Enjolras countered. “But we should get some shots of the Statue before it was destroyed. And maybe the site after.” He suggested to Musichetta, who nodded as she wrote that down. “This one.” Enjolras pulled a mask out from the bottom. It was a drama mask without the mouth.

“That was defective.” Musichetta commented.

“It’s perfect. Drama without a voice.”

“Drama taking over?” Florence asked and Enjolras pointed to him mindlessly.

“Exactly.” He put the mask on only to have it fall off his face. “Um.”

“We’ll fix it.” Musichetta decided and took it from him once he had taken it off. “So, I was thinking a Greek theater. And you know how the seats are above the actors?”

“Yes.”

“We contort the video so that the actors have shot up and the seats descend instead of ascending.”

“Okay.”

“First verse. You walk through them as you’re singing, occasionally looking up to the actors. Chorus. You come up and Julius Caesar style stab one.”

“Fun, who are the actors?”

“Someone who you don’t like that likes you?” Musichetta offered.

“That’ll be easy.” Enjolras gave her a look.

“Anyway. Second verse. Seats have burning rubble on them and the only light appears to be coming from the fires. Third verse. You in shackles on the stage.” Enjolras grunted. “And then we’ll have Grantaire come in and-”

“Shut up, now.” Enjolras gave her a desperate smile and she giggled before continuing.

“By the bridge, it’s been revealed that the actors were statues all along, all pristine and perfect. You destroy them during Lyndon’s fade out with your voice cut in.”

“I like it.” Enjolras nodded and Musichetta beamed. He smiled back at her.

“Good thing too, because we’ve already got the set.” Florence commented and Enjolras looked to Musichetta, who was staring sheepishly back.

A knock sounded on the door and Florence checked outside. “I know Enjolras.” The voice outside claimed.

“Javert. He can come in.” Enjolras informed Florence.

“He’s got two kids with him.” Florence responded and Enjolras stood, opening the door to see Javert, Cosette and Marius. Enjolras flinched slightly.

“Hi, I’m Cosette from the band Mimidae.” The young girl held out her hand and Enjolras gave her a smile, shaking it.

“You must be Marius.” Enjolras looked to the boy, who nodded with a small smirk.

“I know you probably tire of hearing this, but we’re such big fans.” Cosette claimed, looking to be jumping out of her skin.

“Would you two like to be in our music video?” Musichetta asked.

“We are not destroying their reputation.” Enjolras snapped and Musichetta held her hands up in defeat.

“We could have them wearing masks too. After all, this is all taking place in a Greek theater.”

“We’d love to!” Cosette squealed and Enjolras saw Marius make a face.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Enjolras pointed to the ring on her finger and it only seemed to increase her excitement.

“Thank you.” She beamed and Enjolras smiled back at her.

“ _Respires, Cosette_.” Marius called and Cosette relaxed.

“When should we meet you?” Cosette asked.

“In an hour.” Musichetta responded and Cosette glanced from her to Enjolras.

“We can work within your schedule.” He informed her and her eyes squinted in joy as she tried not to jump up and down again.

As planned, they did begin filming within an hour, though Cosette and Marius promised to meet up with them later that day for the rest of the video. All went well, though Enjolras was confused as to why he wasn’t actually singing. “You’re not going to be wearing a microphone and Lyndon isn’t going to show up either.”

“He gets to actually say his speech.”

“You’ll deal.” Musichetta snapped and Enjolras let it go, sensing her exhaustion.

By the end of the day, Musichetta had fallen asleep in the car and forced Enjolras to carry her into the house. Luckily, she was light and Joly showed up to take her out of his hands. Enjolras smiled as he watched his friend happily coo to Musichetta as he carried her up the stairs and off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marius says, "Breathe, Cosette" in French.


	7. Lovers With No Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre and Courfeyrac fight, Feuilly and Enjolras help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of sex, dom/sub, attempted suicide, vague depression, and HIV.

_“And it's kind of funny_  
_The way we're wearing anchors on our shirts_  
_When being anchored aboard_  
_just feels like a curse…_

 _My body is an orphanage_  
_We take everyone in”_

_-“27” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

Combeferre leisurely paced around the living room as the fire blazed in the fireplace. He had a book in his hand, but seemed to be trying to memorize a passage. Feuilly occasionally glanced over his glasses from his own book to check on Combeferre. The glasses were a habit more than anything. Combeferre’s glasses also remained, but Joly’s cane was enthusiastically dropped once the need died. 

The front door slammed open and Combeferre walked over to the doorway to see who it was. “Where have you been?” He demanded.

“Out.” Courfeyrac responded and stepped into the living room, holding his hands out in front of the fire before sitting beside Feuilly and shoving his cold hands on Feuilly’s warm arm.

“For a week?” Combeferre asked.

“I have a life, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac glared up at him and then shoved his cold nose into Feuilly’s neck. Feuilly remained indifferent.

“You’re also a sexophile, Courfeyrac.” Combeferre countered and Courfeyrac didn’t move, but Feuilly felt him tense. “You need to be careful.”

“Dude, don’t tell me how to live my life.” Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around Feuilly, who patted his head.

“I very well will tell you how to live your life when you’re wrecking it.” Combeferre glared the man down as Courfeyrac emerged from his hidey-hole to scowl back.

“Okay, Daddy. Need some submission, crotchety old man?”

“Courf-”

“Not like it matters. We’re never gonna die.” Courfeyrac snapped back, moving so that he was facing Combeferre.

“So are you providing for all your children?” Combeferre demanded and Courfeyrac stood.

“Why, jealous?” He asked and then slipped his sweater off, revealing his midriff. Combeferre winced. “See, I’m bi enough that I can sleep with whomever I want. You, however, are crunchy enough that nobody would ever want to mother your children.” Combeferre threw a punch and Feuilly stood, stopping him.

“He’s drunk, Combeferre. Leave him.” Feuilly pulled on Combeferre’s arm, but Combeferre pushed him away.

“I hope you didn’t drive here like that.” Combeferre barked as Courfeyrac kicked his shoes off by the fire.

“Why do you care, Combeferre?” Courfeyrac stared him in the face even though he was shorter.

“I don’t care.” Combeferre hissed.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Courfeyrac gave him a snotty smirk.

“I’m a doctor and you’re my family; of course I care!” Combeferre barked as Feuilly stepped closer and gave Courfeyrac a look.

“Funny, ‘cause Joly doesn’t care about my conquests.”

“We all do, Courfeyrac, doesn’t mean we voice it.” Feuilly cut in.

“A family _does_ voice their concerns!” Courfeyrac snapped at Feuilly, who winced. “None of you give a crap what I’m up to until Combeferre points out that I’m no longer sleeping with _him_.”

“Courfeyrac, go to bed.” Combeferre demanded and Courfeyrac flipped him off before heading up to his room as suggested.

Combeferre stood panting after Courfeyrac while Feuilly watched from the couch, considering whether or not he should question Combeferre’s well being. The front door creaked open again and Feuilly rolled his eyes as Combeferre attacked.

“Where have you been?” He snapped.

“Stopping a little kid from killing zirself.” Enjolras replied, pulling off the black mask to raise an eyebrow at Combeferre. Combeferre reentered the living room and plopped down beside Feuilly, covering his eyes and groaning. “Everything okay?” Enjolras followed with worry and caution in his voice.

“Courf’s home.” Feuilly replied and Enjolras nodded slowly, pressing his lips together.

“Combeferre?” Enjolras called carefully and moved to sit beside Combeferre, who glanced up at him from where he was resting his face between his hands on his knees. “Do you want me to get Eponine?” He asked and Combeferre scoffed.

“No.”

“I’ve got him.” Feuilly commented and motioned for Enjolras to go comfort Courfeyrac. Enjolras sighed, but nodded after rubbing Combeferre’s back and left. Feuilly let Combeferre stand and pace once more, this time without a book in his hands. “’Ferre, you need to remember that immortality has affected us all differently. Courf, Gav, and Enjolras are all very reckless. You, Joly and I are not. It’s all more of a reflection of who we once were blown up onto a billboard.”

“I know.” Combeferre responded.

“Remember that your attachment to Courfeyrac hasn’t lessened because that’s all you remember. Courfeyrac remembers the barricades. He remembers how he used to cope without a partner. You don’t.”

“How did we cope?” Combeferre turned to look back at Feuilly with tears in his eyes.

“Courfeyrac was always a player. He was charming, just as he can be now. You always curled into yourself and focused on books. Memorization, for one.” Feuilly motioned to the forgotten book on the coffee table.

“And you?” Combeferre curled up beside Feuilly.

“Work.” Feuilly stroked Combeferre’s hair.

“But you don’t now.” Combeferre protested and Feuilly chuckled.

“No, now I focus more on others. It helps.”

“Number one cure for depression.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Feuilly chuckled and Combeferre sighed.

Upstairs, Enjolras knocked on Courfeyrac’s door. “Courfeyrac? You home?” He called and heard a grunt from inside. Enjolras entered to see Courfeyrac with his face shoved into his pillow and his butt in the air. “What’s up, bud?” Enjolras asked, sitting beside his friend.

“Combeferre’s right.” Courfeyrac muttered and turned so that Enjolras could see the tears streaming down his face.

“He often is. What about?” Enjolras asked, wiping the tears from Courfeyrac's eyes.

“I was tested and I’m positive. HIV.” Courfeyrac admitted and Enjolras winced.

“It’s okay. Courf. It’s okay.” Enjolras reassured him as Courfeyrac sobbed. “Medicine has developed, remember?”

“Yes, but taking it immediately places me in a psychiatric ward.” Courfeyrac whimpered.

“Courf, how many times have you died?” Enjolras asked.

“Twice.” Courfeyrac replied.

“And how many times has one of us lost a limb or obtained dearthly diseases and so quickly grown out of it?”

“A lot.” Courfeyrac remembered and glanced up to Enjolras.

“You’ll need to take it easy for a while. You might feel sick while your body corrects itself, but it’s never failed to do so, remember?”

“I remember.” Courfeyrac sat up to look at Enjolras. “But how long?”

“I’m sure you’ll know.” Enjolras reminded him.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Courfeyrac insisted.

“Of course not.” Enjolras ran his fingers through Courfeyrac’s hair.

“I hate this.”

“What?”

“You’re all matched. You have Grantaire. Combeferre has Eponine. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta all have each other.”

“We found Bahorel.”

“Yeah, but he’s never liked people like I do.”

“Jehan’s a mute schizophrenic.” Courfeyrac sighed at Enjolras's words. "Feuilly."

“I want someone to love me.” Courfeyrac complained, tears reappearing in his eyes.

“We all love you, ‘Fey.”

“But not in that way.” Courfeyrac countered and Enjolras sighed, hugging him closer.


	8. World Knows My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire think deep thoughts while Enjolras's first secret identity is mashed into the same category as his other secret identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of smoking, suicide, riots, and deaths.

_“When breathing just passes the time  
Until we all just get old and die_

_Now talking's just a waste of breath  
And living's just a waste of death”_

_-“Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

The next morning, Grantaire was up before the sun, smoking on the back patio. When Enjolras entered the house for the night after saving some imbecile, who thought he could take over the government, from the police, he could see the light on from the back patio.

“You smoke?” Enjolras asked as he sat beside Grantaire, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get twitchy on me about that, Apollo.”

“I wasn’t planning to. How’d you get the cigarette anyway?” Enjolras asked, taking a look at Grantaire’s pack.

“I pretended I was a celebrity. Rather hypocritical, don’t you think? Taking drugs immediately places you in a psychiatric ward, but if you’re a celebrity, they chalk it up to the stress of the job.”

“That’s what we’re fighting against.” Enjolras reminded him.

“Ha. Your little group of vigilantes. Are you the Patriot?” Grantaire asked nonchalantly.

“Yes.” Enjolras replied, equally blasé.

“Figures.” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Can I have one?” Enjolras asked, holding up the pack.

“You smoke?”

“No, but I stress.”

“Have you ever smoked before?”

“No.”

“Come here.” Grantaire pulled him forward and breathed the smoke into his mouth before Enjolras started coughing and pulled away, bright red.

“Never mind, I don’t smoke.” He decided.

“Glad to be of assistance.” Grantaire chuckled and looked out to see the sky lightening and the stars fading.

“Don’t these things kill you?” Enjolras had grabbed the pack again and was looking it over.

“Supposedly.” Grantaire took another drag.

“You don’t care.” Enjolras gave him a look and Grantaire returned it.

“I care. Now that I’m here.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are the only reason I’ve managed to live this long.” Grantaire explained and Enjolras winced. “Of course, other things helped, such as dance or goals, but you were the beginning of it all.” He sighed and stubbed out the cigarette. “Anyway, according to you, I’m gonna die within the year.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Can you?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Enjolras pressed his lips together.

“Grantaire, my goal in this long horrible life has been made up of two things. One, fix the world. Two, keep you alive.”

“Why am I so far up on this list?”

“Because you are all I have to rescue. Everyone else has to rescue themselves, Other than Marius maybe needing Courfeyrac. I can help you.”

“What do I need then?”

“To believe.” Enjolras remarked and Grantaire rolled his eyes so hard that he threw his head back onto the back of the chair. “Hear me out. First time through, you died with me for a cause you didn’t believe in. Second time, you died by yourself because you thought you needed to die without me. Third time, you were either killed as a victim of circumstance or because you didn’t believe anything was going to come of you being in jail. Now, you just have to believe that you can make a difference.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes! You can!” Enjolras insisted, taking his hand. “Your cynicism kills you every time, Grantaire. Please. One ounce of positivity can save your life.” Enjolras’s voice cracked.

“Why should I bother when _you_ don’t even think you’re making a difference?” Grantaire leaned into Enjolras, who breathed roughly.

“Do you remember?” Enjolras asked, less than six inches away from Grantaire.

“If I say yes, are you going to kiss me?” Grantaire replied, his hands moving up his arms to Enjolras’s shoulders. Enjolras pouted desperately and Grantaire placed a hand on Enjolras’s cheek. “What does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” Enjolras whispered as Grantaire wrapped him up in a hug. Then Enjolras sat up and took Grantaire’s cheeks in his hands, kissing him hard and fast. Grantaire stopped him from scooting back again, kissing him in return. Finally, Grantaire pulled away, rubbing his temples. “Do you remember?” Enjolras repeated.

“What? No.” Grantaire responded, glaring up at Enjolras, who sighed in defeat.

“You’re right. Nothing works.”

“What? That’s not what I meant.” Grantaire countered as Enjolras stood. Grantaire followed him into the kitchen.

“Then what do you mean, Grantaire? I should give up on my first goal, but not my second?”

“You said your second goal was to make me believe, not remember.” Grantaire sat down at the island as Enjolras pulled out a pan to make eggs.

“Remembering is half the battle.”

“No, remembering is the quickest way to half the battle. There are other methods.”

“Slower methods.”

“Be patient, Enjolras.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow with a small smirk.

“I’ve been patient for two hundred years.” Enjolras hissed and Grantaire backed off a little.

“Hey, so there’s been a riot in the name of the Patriot and Marble Liberty. Any reason why they’re connecting you to you?” Eponine entered the kitchen with her phone in hand and Enjolras cursed, making Eponine jump. He placed his head in his hand while his eggs cooked.

“How many are dead?” He snapped.

“Um, five. Two were corrupt police.” Eponine answered carefully.

“Why are they rioting in my name when I’ve made it clear that I don’t condone riots?” Enjolras asked, calming himself down as he refocused his attention to the eggs.

“There are always radicals, Enjolras. That doesn’t mean they’re the majority of your followers.” Eponine explained. “Just the loudest.”

“And the loudest always silence the wisest.” Enjolras muttered.

“Okay.” Eponine responded, not seeming to know what to say.

“Enjolras, why are the Patriot and Marble Liberty being lumped into the same category?” Combeferre snapped as he entered the kitchen.

“Because they stand for the same things.” Enjolras grumbled as he placed an egg on Grantaire’s plate.

“Well they'd better stop.” Combeferre gave him a look, fire burning in his eyes.

“Sorry, I can’t help that.”

“You'd better, Enjolras. They’ll be assassinated.” Combeferre demanded.

“Why do I even bother?” Enjolras spat and threw the pan into the dishwasher even though he had only made two eggs. The other one sat alone on the counter. Grantaire followed him down the stairs and into the music room.

“Because you _will_ make a difference. You’ve just got to be patient."

“Nothing’s working.” Enjolras muttered as he wrote.

“Your name is being heard.”

“Not by the right people.”

“The wrong people will make sure it’s heard by the right people.” Grantaire reminded him and Enjolras looked up to him.

“Which are you?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire chuckled.

“Good question.” He sat down beside Enjolras and watched him work for a while longer.


	9. Kids Are All Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine and Gavroche fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of drugs, child slavery, child abuse, death, and PTSD.

_"You call me a bad tipper of the cradle_

_Tired yawns for fawns on hunter's lawns."_

_-“The Carpal Tunnel of Love” by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

“Come on, Bahorel.” Gavroche pulled on his arm.

“Woah, where are you two going?” Eponine asked as they attempted to sneak out of the house.

“We’re going to save the world!” Bahorel announced, throwing his arms in the air and then attempting to do the Superman sign with his fingers in the light of the chandelier, but there were too many shadows.

“Is he high?” Eponine asked Gavroche, who was watching Bahorel with his head tilted.

“Probably.” Gavroche responded.

“Where are you going?” Eponine repeated, figuring that Bahorel’s mental state didn’t matter.

“To find Luc and Philippe.” Gavroche replied, giving Eponine a small glare.

“Why do you bother?” Eponine asked, blinking quickly before looking away from her brother’s tense anger.

“You sound like Grantaire.” Gavroche raised an eyebrow and Eponine rolled her eyes.

“No, I sound like Eponine. Why are you trying to save them when they may not even exist?” Combeferre appeared behind her and Gavroche glanced at him, but then ignored him.

“They are my goal. And they should be yours.” Gavroche commented and Eponine winced away.

“I never knew them.” Eponine practically whispered.

“You knew them when maman was pregnant. You knew them for the first however many years before they were sold into child slavery by their own parents. And you did nothing.” Gavroche remarked and stopped Bahorel from knocking over the coat rack beside the door.

“There was nothing I could’ve done.” Eponine responded and Combeferre stepped closer to her only to be glared at by Gavroche. Eponine still hadn’t registered his presence behind her.

“You could’ve stopped them. Out of any of us, they listened to you.” Gavroche pointed out and Eponine shook her head wildly.

“They would hurt me.” She reminded him wetly.

“Because you stopped them from hurting Azelma! Why didn’t that grace extend to your brothers?” Gavroche stomped his foot and Bahorel copied him.

“You left!” Eponine snapped.

“ _They_ were forced to leave! You did nothing!”

“I can’t protect four children from two people by myself, Gavroche. You did fine with them.”

“Until I died.” Gavroche spat.

“You came back.” Tears dripped onto Eponine’s cheeks and she furiously wiped them away.

“They didn’t.” Gavroche reminded her and she shook her head.

“Yes, they have. Again and again.” Eponine pointed out.

“Which means they’re here for a reason, right, Ep?” Gavroche snapped.

“I made a butterfly.” Bahorel continued making shapes out of the shadows cast by the chandelier.

“I’m not here for them.” Eponine whispered back, glaring slightly at Bahorel.

“Who are you here for, huh, Ep? Because you haven’t made it very obvious what you’re aiming for here.” Gavroche remarked.

“I’m here for me! I worked only for Marius and papa et maman and it killed me! I thought maybe I was here to continue helping Marius, but that turned out to be a bust. All in all, I am here for me. That’s all I can think of. For once, I can live the way I want to because that is why I am here. For a second chance to be happy.” Eponine finished, glaring her brother down.

“Come on, Bahorel.” Gavroche pulled on his sleeve and Bahorel followed him out the door.

Eponine slinked up against the stairs and shook, gasping for air. Combeferre emerged and placed his hand on her back. She yelped and pushed him away, but then realized who it was and began to sob. He wrapped her up in his arms and comforted her as past events played before her eyes again and again. Gunshots. Bombs. Destruction.

“I wish he could love me.” Eponine whispered as she shook.

“He does. He just shows it differently, remember?” Combeferre remarked and Eponine sighed again and again until Combeferre turned her around so that she was facing him. “Hey. Look at me. You’re safe. You’re with me, Combeferre, at the mansion.” He remarked and her eyes looked around wildly until they connected to Combeferre’s and she relaxed in his arms.

“Combeferre.” She whimpered, placing a hand on his cheek. “Make him come back. Don’t let him go. I need to see him, I need him!” She announced and he held her close until she finally stopped crying and rested in his arms.

“Come on.” He helped her stand and led her into the living room so that she could rest on the couch. At first, Combeferre looked up what he could on PTSD, but then remembered that he was probably the best expert there was on the subject. He sat across from her and began reading when he saw that she had fallen asleep.

When she woke, she sighed and stretched. There was a cup of water and some crackers beside her and she smirked. “Am I your prisoner?” She asked.

Combeferre glanced at her. “You have PTSD.”

“Thank you, I’ve noticed.” She countered and groaned. He looked away again as he considered this.

“Joly’s going to get the medication needed next time he gets the chance.”

“I don’t want to rely on medicine, Combeferre; tell him not to bother.” Eponine stood.

“It’s not relying on medication if you take it just to feel a little better every once in a while.”

“Look up the word ‘reliance’, doc.” Eponine remarked.

“Eponine, it’ll help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“A mention of your family brought on hallucinations.” Combeferre reminded her and she winced at the reminder.

“It was a memory.”

“Same difference.”

“Not really.” She gave him a look and went to enter the kitchen.

“Eponine.” Combeferre sat up as if to follow her and she turned to glare at him.

“Combeferre. Leave me be.” She snapped and then looked to the floor upon seeing his eyes boring into hers. “Thank you for helping me earlier.” She muttered out and then fled into the kitchen. Combeferre rubbed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the couch as he thought this through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this series! Since it is so long, I will be posting on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays starting this Sunday. Thanks to all who read and I hope you enjoy it. Critiques and comments are very much appreciated!


	10. Jet Black Crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence, Grantaire and Enjolras see what people think about Marble Liberty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of drug addictions, racism, and stalking.

_“Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark_   
_Can't be sure when they've hit their mark_   
_And besides in the mean, mean time_   
_I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart_   
_My songs know what you did in the dark_   
_So light 'em up, I'm on fire_   
_All the writers keep writing what they write”_

_-“My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

“So, this is your method?” Grantaire asked as he watched Enjolras stare at the news.

“Hm?” Enjolras called.

“You stare at the TV and then write about what you see? Do you have every American speech memorized so that you know what to use as a backing track?”

“That was one album.” Enjolras responded.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I can see what haunts people.” Enjolras remarked and Grantaire was silent. Enjolras turned to look at him to see him staring in amusement.

“I see dead people.” Grantaire whispered and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“No. I can look at these idiots and know what they’re going through in reality. Like, oh, a celebrity that isn’t well known is going through a bad breakup. In reality, they want to be seen again. This guy’s suddenly a Christian. He was probably confronted with his drug addiction.”

“What makes you think he’s a druggie?” Grantaire stared at the screen.

“Look at him.” Enjolras narrowed his eyes with a smirk and scribbled something down.

“Okay, you’re creepy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Do you get assassination attempts?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras chuckled.

“I have gotten death threats and I have been shot at when exiting the studio.”

“How do they know it’s you they’re shooting at?” Grantaire asked.

“There are a few people at the studio who know who I am. Information leaks.”

“Doesn’t that freak you out?”

“Not really. If I die, I’ll come back.”

“Right, zombies.” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “So who’s today? The Christian or the cheater?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras shrugged.

“Both. Facades for attention.” Enjolras decided and Grantaire nodded.

“Of course.” He thought about this for a few minutes. “Do you ever get people asking why you know the intimate details of their lives?”

“Yes.” Enjolras handed him a letter.

“People still write letters?” Grantaire muttered out, but read it aloud. “' _Dear Marble Liberty, I write to ask why you know things about me that my agent don’t even know. If this continues, I will call the police on you. From Go-Go'_.” Grantaire made a face. “Did Go-Go ever go-go to the education places?” Grantaire mimicked the well-known actress’s voice.

“Probs not.” Enjolras replied with a smirk and Grantaire chuckled.

“I count…five spelling errors?” He suggested.

“That’s what I got.”

“Please tell me you’re using this.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“I plan to. Probably an album cover or something.” Enjolras responded and laughed.

“Yo, Emmel!” They heard Florence come traipsing down the stairs. “You’ve got more mail. I count three fan mail and six death threats. We calling the police yet?”

“Never.” Enjolras responded and grabbed the letters in delight. “Oh, lord. This idiot spells like you speak. ‘ _Yo, Emmel!'_ ” Enjolras started and Grantaire cracked up. “ _‘Quit stalkin’ us all. And quit it with the lies. Don’t reply, White Fighta.’_ Who the hell-?”

“Rapper.” Florence answered.

“Is he white and being racist or not and being racist?” Enjolras questioned and Grantaire jumped up.

“I think he’s Hispanic.” Florence replied.

“Oh, here’s a good one. _‘Dear Marble Liberty, I’m such a big fan! Please consider me as inspiration for your next song.’_ And it continues with details that a mother would not wish to know about their child, ending with _‘love, Marco.’_ ” Grantaire smiled at Enjolras.

“Oh, Marco. I’ve actually considered calling the police on him because he’s equally stalkerish.”

“Equal to you?” Grantaire asked and was ignored.

“Aw, this one’s sweet. _‘Dear Marble Liberty, thank you for all that you’ve done for us, the common folk. I love your songs and hope to see you live someday. Though that’s probs really dangerous. If you stand up and fight, please let me know the time and place. Sincerely, Joshua’_.” Florence read and Enjolras chuckled as he cooed.

“That’ll go on the board.” Enjolras tacked it up with the other two fan letters written on his wall, but tore the name off the end of it. When Grantaire gave him a look, he explained. “Being present in this house is life threatening enough. We don’t need letter writers to get in trouble too.” Enjolras explained and Grantaire nodded slowly as he considered this.

“Yeah, the last fan letter is pretty much begging you to kill a celeb.”

“Please tell me it’s not signed.” Enjolras gave Florence a desperate look.

“Nah. Anon.” Florence handed it to him and Enjolras shook his head and rolled his eyes before tearing it up and throwing it in the trash. “Anyway, you need to look up your music video.”

“You didn’t show it to me first?” Enjolras asked and turned to his computer.

“You never care.” Florence responded and watched Enjolras started to watch the video, but then scrolled down to see the comments. He glared and began typing. “Nah-uh. We don’t need debates in YouTube comments. You realize that anyone who actually comments is completely ridiculous and can rarely back up their statements with facts.”

“You sound like Combeferre.”

“Cool.” Florence shrugged and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “The two biggest compliments you, Enjolras, could give me is calling me Combeferre or Feuilly. They’re the nicest people I know that you know.”

“Hey.” Grantaire commented.

“Who are you?” Florence asked Grantaire and Enjolras chuckled.

“I’m…no one.” Grantaire finally decided and Enjolras gave him a look.

“This is my ‘it’s complicated’ relationship and this is my agent. Grantaire, Florence.” Enjolras pointed to each of them respectively.

“Nice to meet you, complicated.” Florence commented and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, agent.” Grantaire responded. “Good grief. Why do you even bother?” Grantaire asked as he read over Enjolras’s shoulder. The comments didn’t get any better.

“This.” Enjolras pointed to one comment. _‘thx for all ur work u got me thru a lot of crap and reassure me that some1 out there agrees with me’_ “Out of a billion dislikes, I’ve got a thousand likes. If I can help even one person, I’m doing something good.” Enjolras decided and Grantaire placed his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder before kissing his cheek.

“I’ll let you and agent talk work, Mr. Complicated Relationship.” Grantaire commented and headed back upstairs.

“Dude. What is complicated about that piece of heaven?” Florence asked and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t think you bent that way, Clare.”

“I don’t have to to see what’s right in front of me.” Florence replied and Enjolras rolled his eyes as he changed the subject to their first live concert.

Suddenly, “Enjolras.” Grantaire called down the stairs and Enjolras felt chills run down his spine.


	11. Just One Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the country is hit with disaster, Les Amis blow up in anger and sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National disaster, implied schizophrenia, and ableism.

_“They say we are what we are_  
_But we don't have to be._  
 _I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way._  
 _I'll be the watcher of the eternal flame._  
 _I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams._  
 _I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass.”_

_-“Immortals” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California  
**

He glanced at Florence who had just taken a call and was now cursing, his face pale.

“What?” Enjolras rushed up the stairs to see Grantaire holding a shaking Joly in his arms as Jehan walked around quietly and calmly, looking at all the splendor.

He smiled when he saw Enjolras and held out his arms. “Enjolras!” He announced and Enjolras held out his arms, but Jehan backed away.

“Enjolras.” Combeferre called from the living room and Enjolras entered to see Combeferre staring at a screen depicting fire and explosions. The reporter was claiming that psychiatric wards all around the country had been hit. There were few survivors. “It’s like 9-11 all over again.” Combeferre whispered.

Enjolras cursed loudly and Combeferre turned to him. Courfeyrac was sitting beside him with tears in his eyes. “Where are Bossuet and Musichetta?” Enjolras demanded.

“At work.” Courfeyrac replied.

“Feuilly?” Enjolras squeaked.

“Upstairs. He’s calling Eponine.” Combeferre reassured him.

“The studio’s not-”

“It’s fine. She’s out looking for Gavroche and Bahorel.” Combeferre explained and Enjolras kicked at the coffee table. He cursed again.

“I’m going out.” He announced, grabbing his mask from the coat rack.

“Enjolras?” Florence called from behind him and Enjolras turned, shoving the mask into his pocket. “Can you drive me to the hospital?” He asked and Enjolras winced, his eyes filling.

“Yeah.” He decided. “Let’s go.”

In the car, they sat silently. Enjolras took Florence’s car, but drove for him, hoping the man wouldn’t realize that he had no easy way back without a car of his own. “Who?” Enjolras finally asked.

“My mom.”

“What do you know?” Enjolras continued.

“She’s alive.” Florence replied. When they reached the hospital, Enjolras stopped in front. In all honesty, he knew that he should go with his friend. He knew that if he didn’t, Florence would be upset alone. If he didn’t, he knew that he would act irrationally.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked and Florence shook his head.

“It’s fine. Go. You’ve got friends who need you.” Florence reminded him and Enjolras thought through this. That’s not where he was going to go now.

After parking Florence’s car and hiding the keys in Florence’s jacket, Enjolras ran over to the psychiatric ward. As predicted, there were firefighters standing outside, containing the fire, but no one had even considered going in to rescue those present in the fire. Enjolras rushed into the fire without a second thought.

He managed to get a man and a woman out of the fire. The man had been running in circles and the woman was trying to help him get out. “Do you work here?” Enjolras asked her and she shook her head. Enjolras stopped from tearing down the building in anger.

“Get your asses over here and help them!” Enjolras shouted at a fireman, who stared in shock, but then did what he was told. Despite all who tried to convince Enjolras otherwise, human beings really were good at heart. Sometimes, fear diminished that goodness, but it was still there.

Enjolras reached another man just as his heart failed him and Enjolras cried out in anger, going over to the next person. Still, only the dead were left. Enjolras continued through the ward, looking for his family's needed medication, since he was there.

When he returned home around midnight, he saw Musichetta and Bossuet curled up around Joly, who was still shaking in his sleep. Enjolras placed his hand on the man’s head and felt tears breach his eyes. He looked away and continued into the house to see Grantaire with Jehan in his arms as they watched TV. Jehan was petting Grantaire’s face. Upstairs, Feuilly was in bed with Courfeyrac, simply holding him. When Feuilly saw Enjolras, he raised his eyebrows in question. Enjolras looked away and continued. Downstairs, Combeferre and Eponine were dancing around the living room to old musicals from a time in which they didn’t rule the world. Enjolras didn’t interrupt them when he heard her giggle and Combeferre attempt to reach a falsetto note. 

Enjolras did some quick research and discovered what medication Jehan would need and how often. He sat down beside Grantaire and Jehan and handed Jehan the correct pill. Jehan kissed Enjolras’s hand and then took the pill as suggested.

“Joly’s decided that Jehan’s living here. As far as anyone knows, he died in the fire.” Grantaire informed Enjolras, who gave him a nod. “Combeferre’s worried that you’re going to hurt yourself. You should probably make sure he knows you’re he-” Enjolras interrupted Grantaire with his lips, leaning over Jehan and then resituating themselves so that Enjolras and Grantaire were pressed together as they kissed. Grantaire kissed him back, but then pulled away, having to push Enjolras away. “Enjolras.” He muttered and Enjolras pulled away to stare into Grantaire’s eyes with a mess of desperation, anger and hurt. “Where were you?” He asked.

“I saved some people from the fire. They-” Enjolras’s voice cracked and he resituated himself again so that he wasn’t leaning over Grantaire anymore. “The firemen wouldn’t even enter the burning building. It’s as if there are only some people worth another’s life being risked.”

“Are you surprised?” Grantaire asked, placing his hand on Enjolras’s. Enjolras gripped it in between his.

“No, see. When they were then given the opportunity to save someone, when I placed a wounded being in front of them, they jumped to help. Fear needs to be extinguished. Classes need to die. People then will help each other.”

“Yes.”

“I also got drugs.” Enjolras finished and Grantaire chuckled, pulling Enjolras’s head down onto his chest. Enjolras buried his face in Grantaire’s chest, thinking that he would cry, but no tears came.

Minutes later, Enjolras heard Combeferre approach. “Is he asleep?” Combeferre asked and Enjolras tensed.

“Yeah.” Grantaire answered, sensing that Enjolras didn’t want to be lectured. Enjolras shifted so that he had his arms wrapped around the man, slightly hitting Jehan in the face. “He saved some people and got drugs for Jehan and us all.” Grantaire explained, moving Enjolras’s hand so he didn’t suffocate Jehan.

“Good. Now, if only he could control his anger at injustice.”

“Can you?” Grantaire countered and Enjolras heard Combeferre sigh before leaving. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand and fell asleep there.


	12. Young Volcanoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras does his first live concert and is stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioned death of family, implied PTSD and an assassination attempt.

_“Put him in the back of a squad car; restrain that man_

_He needs his head put through a cat scan_

_Hey editor, I'm undeniable! Hey doctor, I'm certifiable!_

_I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine_

_What a match; I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet”_

_-“Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Los Angeles, California  
**

“Are you sure about this, Enjolras?” Florence asked.

“Yes. We can’t be scared into silence. That’ll look bad.” Enjolras countered and then looked to his friend. Florence’s mother hadn’t made it. Going back to work two days after your mother dies couldn’t be fun. “You don’t have to stay, Clare. I won’t mind.” Enjolras informed him and Florence shook his head.

“You need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid.”

“I thought that was Combeferre’s job.” Enjolras commented and Florence rolled his eyes.

“Remember that the chances of you coming out of this without an injury are one to ten.”

“Where’d you pull that stat out of?” Enjolras questioned, shoving his mask on. They had found a drama mask with a frown so that Enjolras’s voice wouldn’t be muffled by the mask. Still, he had to rely almost entirely on touch since the slatted eyes only gave him so much sight.

“Your ass.” Florence responded and Enjolras flashed him a grin.

“Hey, Enjolras. I have a very good reason why you shouldn’t go on stage today.” Courfeyrac approached and Enjolras looked to him. Courfeyrac held up an article claiming that there was a price on the head of Marble Liberty.

“That would be a very stupid thing to announce right before Marble Liberty’s first live concert.” Enjolras remarked.

“You think it’s fake?”

“Very.” Enjolras informed him and pulled out his guitar.

“What if the police show up?” Courfeyrac questioned.

“We’ve already got guards.” Enjolras pointed out. “And they would not attempt to arrest me in front of my fans.”

“At least half of those people want you dead.” Combeferre appeared and Enjolras gave his friend a flat look. “It’s true.”

“It’s time.” Enjolras smirked at Combeferre, who glared as he shook his head. Enjolras emerged onto the stage and looked around. Everyone was screaming, making him feel like he’d been hit by a semi-truck. No blood, Enjolras realized and focused on that. No blood. Happy screaming. Hopefully.

“Okay, so who’s here because they actually agree with what I stand for?” Enjolras called and half of the crowd continued screaming though somewhat reluctantly. “Encouraging. Okay. Let’s go, then.” He began playing _Dreams_ , which was the first track in his album based off of famous speeches. Whenever a song had part of the speech written into it, he recited the speech himself rather than have the voice overs of the dead people. This first song explained the idea of a better tomorrow, as Martin Luther King Jr.’s ‘ _I Have a Dream_ ’ speech did. Nobody seemed to have too big of a problem with this song, though Enjolras had read the charts to see that people didn’t like him using famous speeches for his own means.

By the end of the album, Enjolras was still alive despite his friend’s original assumptions. “I actually have one more song that I’ve only just written. It’s a little rusty, but I’ve only just written it in light of the attacks on our friends and family damned as ill.” The crowd was silent. Enjolras breathed, wondering if this was a good idea. He didn’t back down, however.

He started with the beginning of George Bush’s address to the nation after 9/11. This got a few boos followed by shouts aimed at the naysayers to stuff it. At least, that’s where Enjolras hoped they were aimed. He mentioned the courage of those who helped and the fear of those who still cared. When he reached the portion of the song claiming that the government had something to do with these attacks, all hell broke loose.

Police streamed into the crowds, rushing everyone out of the stadium. Some guards approached Enjolras, but he was well prepared, whipping the guitar behind him so that he was able to defend himself. He felt a bullet enter his bulletproof vest and turned to knock the shooter down, tearing the gun from his hands and aiming at the other guards present. He rushed backstage. “Clare!” He called over the crowds still rushing around. “Florence!” He screeched, but got no answer.

Instead, he felt handcuffs being slapped onto him and he fought, but was shoved into the back of a police car. “No, no!” Enjolras demanded, but then saw Javert’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Relax, Marbles.” Javert snapped.

“That is _really_ not my name.” Enjolras barked back and tried to peer out behind him.

“Quit it. Your mask is gone.” Javert pointed out and Enjolras hid his face again.

“Where’s Florence?” Enjolras demanded, realizing then that Javert was unlikely to know. Still, Javert proved him wrong.

“Cosette got him out as soon as the chaos started.”

“You let little Cosette enter that madness?” Enjolras snapped and Javert looked at him in confusion through the rear view mirror.

“My daughter. I know she’s strong.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Marius is with her.”

“Where are you taking me?” Enjolras demanded.

“Home.”

“Where is she taking Florence?”

“To his own house. I’ve got trusted guards standing outside his house until I say otherwise.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you?” Enjolras muttered.

“Yeah, well, I assumed that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself after the terrorist attacks.”

“Is that what you cowards are calling them? You realize that the government probably planned those attacks?”

“Yes, I do realize that. We were told to come in as soon as you mentioned this ideology.”

“Why would you guys know that I would mention it?”

“You aren’t the only one good at reading people.” Javert countered and Enjolras huffed.

“Where’s everyone else? They were backstage and in the crowds.” Enjolras reminded Javert.

“They’re not stupid. They most likely had their own plans of escape.”

“You sound too sure.”

“Have you discovered the key to the handcuffs under your ass yet? Call them.” Javert insisted and Enjolras stopped pretending that he hadn’t found the key.

In the chaos, Les Amis had quickly made a decision. They worked primarily on getting the civilians out of the crowd, stopping them from being attacked by the guards. Eventually, Feuilly grabbed Courfeyrac and pulled him into a car. Grantaire was already inside, comforting Jehan, who had started shaking and sobbing at the noise and pushing. Enjolras had texted Feuilly to see if he was okay, so Feuilly assumed that he was fine. Feuilly waited until he got a text from Bossuet saying that he, Joly and Musichetta were safe before driving away.

“What about Combeferre and Eponine?” Courfeyrac asked and Feuilly cursed, but didn’t turn around.

“Combeferre has his own car; he can get them out safely.” Feuilly decided.

“What if he doesn’t grab Eponine?” Grantaire remarked.

“Trust me, he will.” Courfeyrac muttered and turned to his window.

“Eponine!” Combeferre called and found her chestnut hair in the crowd. He forced his way over to her and grabbed her arm, refusing to let go as she fought against what she assumed to be a guard.

Finally, they emerged from the crowd and Combeferre wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her hard and desperately. She tensed, but hugged him back when she realized it was him. She was shaking violently and turned away to barf. “Shh, it’s okay.” Combeferre stroked the hair from her face until she was finished and then carted her into the car.


	13. One Maniac at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert, Combeferre and Grantaire yell at Enjolras about his recklessness.

_“This is a black, black ski mask song  
So put all of your anger on  
In the truly gruesome do we trust  
I will always land on you like a sucker punch  
Singing I am your worst nightmare  
If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sang at you,_  
_You would never sing along_  
_Cast them out 'cause this is our culture_  
_These new flocks are nothing but vultures”_

_-“Novocaine” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

Enjolras entered the house expecting to be greeted by at least one hug. Instead, Combeferre immediately began cursing at him. Enjolras widened his eyes and then blinked. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He replied, but Combeferre wasn’t quite done.

“There were children in that crowd, you ass!” Combeferre snapped and made to hit Enjolras, but Javert stepped in and pushed Combeferre away, giving the doctor a flat look. Enjolras hadn’t done anything to defend himself, but placed his hand where the bullet had entered the bulletproof vest. Instead, he stared forward to see Grantaire with a black eye nursing a cut on Jehan’s hand as Jehan rambled to himself about the cut and the majestic stairs that they were sitting on. He could hear someone barfing in the bathroom and other noises coming from the kitchen.

Javert motioned with his head for Combeferre to enter the living room and he did so, followed by Javert and Enjolras. Enjolras knowingly shut the door and turned to see Combeferre and Javert both fuming. “You’re an idiot.” Combeferre barked as he paced back and forth throughout the room. Javert stood his post at the doorway to the backyard, as if expecting Enjolras to run for it. Instead, Enjolras removed his shirt and then the vest, hissing at the sight of the bruise already forming.

“Yes, I understood that the first time you said it.”

“No, I called you an ass. Now, I’m calling you an idiot.” Combeferre then went through a list of a few more choice words to describe Enjolras, who chewed on his cheek as he blocked Combeferre out, thinking instead about what he could do next time to stop a police attack. Enjolras plopped down onto the couch, letting his head hang over the back.

“See, I understand your anger, but what are you doing here?” Enjolras pointed to Javert, who narrowed his eyes.

“You make my life difficult and I would be very grateful if you stopped.” Javert informed him and Enjolras shrugged, figuring that there wasn’t much he could do in that case.

“I’ve seen certain levels of stupidity in all of us, Enjolras, but that just reached a new level all together.” Combeferre spat.

“I didn’t expect that the police there to defend me would suddenly attack me.” Enjolras commented.

“You should’ve expected it!” Combeferre cursed at him again. “Javert expected it for crying out loud!”

“Well, I expected it because I knew he tends to resort to illegal measures to get his point across.” Javert pointed out.

“When defending the innocent and defenseless is illegal, yes, I will become a criminal.” Enjolras snapped at Javert, who rolled his eyes and turned to stare out into the backyard once more.

The door to the entryway opened and Grantaire appeared, steadily approaching Enjolras, who thought that he was finally going to get a hug. Instead, Grantaire slapped him. “Ow.” Enjolras muttered and looked to see Javert glance away quickly as if pretending he didn’t see that. Enjolras glared at him and then looked back to Grantaire.

“You just go out of your way to figure out the best way to make the world hate you, don’t you?” Grantaire snapped and Enjolras narrowed his eyes in confusion. “After two hundred years on this godforsaken rock, you’d think you’d know better. Two days after a supposed terrorist attack, you sing, publicly about the government’s role in the event?”

“I thought people would agree.”

“Nobody wants to think that! Everyone in the nation has had a family member or significant other killed in those attacks. Being told that their protection attacked them is not what people want right now. They want to be reassured that the government is doing everything they can to help them!”

“That’s not true.”

“It doesn’t matter, Enjolras! The truth doesn’t matter when someone is broken and desperate for comfort! If that was you attempting to gain more fans, you failed. Miserably.”

“I don’t want fans; I want people to realize what’s going on around them.” Enjolras snapped.

“You just caused massive panic, Enjolras. A terrorist attack causes panic. You weren’t supposed to throw explosives on the already made fire!” Grantaire barked and Enjolras looked down at his feet. “No, you look at me.” Grantaire grabbed his chin and forced Enjolras to look him in the eye. Their breath mixed. “If you want to save the idiots on this planet, who, might I add, do not all deserve saving, you need to think before you act!” Grantaire pushed Enjolras away and Enjolras gasped. Grantaire moved to leave the room, but was stopped by Enjolras’s voice.

“Nobody deserves to die.” Enjolras replied and Grantaire turned slowly to face him. Enjolras turned bright red.

“How many people have died at your hand, Enjolras? Patriot? Angel? Just today, how many people do you think died because of your actions? Everyone dies. You take their lives into your hands sometimes, which makes you the god I think you to be, but not the one I want you to be. Are you, in fact, Ares? Or Tartarus?” He stalked toward Enjolras again, who was leaning back against the couch as Grantaire knelt over him. “You have no business saying that nobody deserves to die when you know very well that people you have killed deserved to die. People you plan to kill deserve to die. And if you knew the deep, dark recesses of the minds of the very people you aim to protect, you would find that nobody deserves life.” Grantaire chuckled. “After all, you want to die, yourself. If anyone deserves to live, it’s you, Enjolras. And yet, not even you.”

With that, Grantaire left the room, leaving Enjolras breathing roughly in the same position Grantaire had left him. They all were silent for a few moments as Enjolras caught his breath. “Nobody deserves the panic you placed in their minds today, Enjolras. But I cannot say that nobody deserves to die. I say I lean more in the direction of Grantaire’s beliefs on that matter.” Javert decided and stalked out of the room after Grantaire.

Enjolras glanced over to Combeferre, who was staring at him with tears in his eyes. When Combeferre realized that Enjolras was staring back, however, he blinked away and left.


	14. Kids You Used to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette and Marius decide to take a stand for what they believe in.

_“And we might have started singing just a little soon”_

_-“The Carpal Tunnel of Love” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Los Angeles, California  
**

“Florence?” Cosette called, shaking Florence’s arm slightly. “Clarence, honey, can you wake up?” She sang and the man inhaled sharply, sitting up suddenly and looking around. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home.” Cosette informed him and he blinked at her.

“Cosette?” He furrowed his eyebrows together and rubbed at his eyes only to discover that his head hurt.

“We helped you get away from the police. They were going to kill you.” Cosette informed him with worry in her eyes. Marius handed him an ice pack and he realized that he felt a knot on his forehead.

“Why are you in my house?” Florence asked and Marius narrowed his eyes at the man, having expected a more gracious response.

“We wanted to be sure that you’re safe.” Cosette replied, not seeing her finance’s response behind her. “My dad also assigned some trustworthy guards outside. You’ll be safe here.” She gave him a gentle smile and he smiled back at her.

“How’s Enjolras?” He asked.

“He’s fine. My dad took him home. I think they’re all yelling at him, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he needs a little yelling sometimes. Only way to get through to that thick skull of his.” Florence remarked and Cosette giggled, patting his hair where the ice pack wasn’t.

“Do you need anything else?” She asked him and he shook his head.

“I’m fine, Cosette. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand and stood, stretching as he looked around and then glanced outside to see the guards on his front lawn.

“They’ve completely surrounded the place. There’s two on the roof too. No way anyone’s going to harm you.” Marius explained and Florence blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t know I was so important.” He commented and closed his blinds, attempting to drown out all light as it pierced through his eyes.

“Enjolras is important to my dad. I don’t entirely understand it, but I think my dad thinks he’s going to save the world. Your protection and assistance is needed as far as my dad’s concerned.” Cosette explained and Florence nodded.

“I’m glad I found Enjolras, then.” He smirked and she raised an eyebrow, shrugging.

“Protection and danger in one package.” She commented and he chuckled, nodding at that truth. “Well, we’ll leave you to your rest. Take things easy, okay? You don’t need to get hurt any worse right now.” Cosette demanded and he nodded as he yawned and lied back down on the couch, quickly falling back asleep. Cosette smiled down at him and then took Marius’s hand, leading him back out of the house with a grin and a kiss on the cheek.

In the car, Cosette blurted out, “I think we need to seriously analyze what we’ve been singing about and how we can change that to something more useful to today’s society and its efforts.”

Marius blinked and glanced at her. “So, sing about things like Enjolras?”

“No, silly, we’d be killed. But we shouldn’t be so naïve as to sing only about love. We should sing about the problems of today. Medication. Celebrities.” She offered, but stopped when she saw Marius frown.

“So, like Enjolras.”

“No! We’ll be less extreme.” Cosette decided and Marius nodded slowly, pressing his lips together.

“We’ll lose a large fan following.” He pointed out.

“And gain a new fan following. Our presence in Enjolras’s video may help our case.” She grinned and Marius shook his head.

“He’s not going to announce to the world that that was us. That could definitely end our lives.” Marius pointed out and Cosette pouted slightly as she considered this.

“Maybe we can ask him to make a statement about us? Or just be seen with him in a picture or something.” Cosette offered.

“Maybe we were caught in the pictures of the crowd.” Marius suggested somewhat sarcastically, but that didn’t register in Cosette’s mind.

“Yeah!” Cosette responded cheerfully and Marius shook his head.

“Cosette, I’m not letting you do this.” He informed her and her smile faded.

“What? Why not?" She turned to face him entirely.

“I don’t want you killed. Or in any danger.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Living in today’s society is dangerous, Marius. Especially with asthma.” She pointed out.

“Any connection with Enjolras will only increase that danger, Cosette.” Marius’s voice raised slightly and Cosette felt her heart pang.

“It’s not going to make that much of a difference.” Cosette muttered and shook her head.

“How would you know?” Marius narrowed his eyes.

“How would you know otherwise?” Cosette glared at him and he winced. “It’s my life, Marius. I want to do something with it. Being famous for singing about the same things everyone sings about is stupid. We’ll fade into oblivion. We can make a difference, though. Just mentioning that people struggle through sicknesses without medication due to today’s laws will bring awareness and comfort to people.” Cosette finished and sighed when she saw that Marius hadn’t even changed expressions. “We don’t have to be as radical as Enjolras. But we don’t have to be as ordinary as every other celebrity in the world.”

“We’re not all that ordinary, Cosette. We’re the only celebrities living in the slums.” Marius commented and Cosette winced away from him.

“Baba’s doing his best. You should not have any comment on that in light of all that he’s done. He risks his life everyday to protect those who hate him and then gets no recognition for it. We’re being glorified because we sing about emotions that end.”

“Emotions that end?” Marius repeated, looking to her in confusion and hurt.

“No. I mean. Emotions are finite, Marius. Not mine for you, but the ones the world has for us. Living makes people happy until they die. Much less finite.” Cosette explained, furrowing her eyebrows as she worked through this herself.

“At first sign of danger, we’re leaving then.” Marius decided and Cosette glanced at him, waiting for an explanation. “We’ll go away. Live somewhere never expected. We can take your parents and be safe from those who don’t want us to sing what we will be singing.” He clarified and continued driving. He glanced at Cosette to see her staring in determination out the front window.

“Okay.” She replied.


	15. Release the Doves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody dies and isn't coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death.

_“And I just need enough of you to dull the pain_  
_Just to get me through the night 'til we're twins again_  
_'Till we're stripped down to our skeletons again_  
_'Till we're saints just swimming in our sins again”_

_-“Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC)” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California  
**

“Gavroche, you need to-” Feuilly paused and listened as Eponine perked up to see what Gavroche had to say. “Bahorel, what- Yes. Okay. Bahorel, where are you guys? Okay, I’m coming.” Feuilly grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his pocket as he hurried toward the door with Eponine on his heels. “No. You need to stay here.” Feuilly told her and she stared back.

“No, I need to see my brother.” She countered and he shook his head.

“You are running a business here. We’ve got dancers in the back and you’re the only employee present once I leave.” He held his hands out to stop her and she slapped them away.

“Then I’ll go.” She glared up at him, seeming to reach his height with nothing but confidence.

“Eponine. No. Just stay. I’ll bring him back, okay?” Feuilly kissed her hair and rushed out of the building too quickly for her to follow.

Feuilly drove as quickly as he could, blinking tears from his eyes and calling up Combeferre. “Hey. So, Bahorel said that Gavroche has been dead for two days and hasn’t woken up.”

“What?” Combeferre snapped back.

“I guess he remembers some things.” Feuilly replied as if that was the most alarming part of the information he had.

“Where is he?” Combeferre demanded and Feuilly gave him an address where they would meet. Bahorel had led them to a rundown stable a few miles away from town. The land was barren, but Feuilly saw two little boys romping around as if looking for food.

“Are you Luc and Philippe?” Feuilly called and the older boy nodded. Feuilly smiled back when he realized that he had nothing to say and then headed into the stable. Bahorel had set up a kind of bed for Gavroche. He had placed a water bottle next to him and had lit a small fire in the middle of the barn as if to warm the boy.

“He’s supposed to come back, right? Right?” Bahorel asked and Feuilly knelt over the boy, checking for a pulse and a heartbeat. Nothing.

“Move.” Combeferre called as he entered the building and fell to his knees by the boy, checking all vitals. “How’d he die?” Combeferre asked Bahorel.

“The boys. They were in a burning building and Gavroche saved them.”

“Burns?” Feuilly asked.

“No. He fell asleep.” Bahorel explained through tears.

“Smoke.” Combeferre clarified. “Which means heart attack.” Combeferre pulled out automatic defibrillator pads.

“Will that help?” Feuilly asked as Combeferre pressed them down onto Gavroche’s chest.

“I tried. I tried. I tried.” Bahorel covered his face with his hands.

“Yeah, but.” Combeferre stopped and sat up to stare down at Gavroche. He peeled a Band-Aid off the boy’s hand and gasped slightly at the cut that remained.

“It’ll heal with the Band-Aid.” Bahorel informed Combeferre, swatting him away so that he could replace the Band-Aid that would no longer stick.

“How long has it been there?” Combeferre asked Bahorel.

“Since the fire.” Bahorel responded and Combeferre turned pale.

“We’re…” He cleared his throat and sniffed. “We’ll have to tell Eponine. Her brother has died, but fulfilled his purpose.” Combeferre pressed his lips together as he stared down at Gavroche and then stood, looking away.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Feuilly asked, staring down at Gavroche’s body.

“No. Not if this is how he’s supposed to die. He saved the boys, right?” Combeferre asked Bahorel, clearing his throat.

“Yes.” Bahorel responded as he sobbed over Gavroche. Combeferre disguised a sob as a cough and gritted his teeth.

“We should take him home.” Combeferre decided and Feuilly nodded, pressing his lips together as tears streamed down his face. Together, they lifted him gently into Combeferre’s trunk.

“Any idea how suspicious this will look if someone saw this?” Bahorel commented and one of the boys stepped on his foot, making him jump.

“Do you know who Gavroche was?” Combeferre asked the older boy. He nodded. “Would you like to meet your sister?” The boy nodded again. “Come on.” He gestured toward the car and the older boy took the younger’s hand and they jumped into the backseat beside Bahorel, who was still crying as he stared out the window.

“Bahorel?” Feuilly called and the man grunted. “Do you remember us?” He asked and Bahorel gave a slight nod. “You can stay. With us.” He explained and Bahorel grunted again.

When they arrived at the house, Eponine was out front. Since she couldn’t see her brother, she rushed toward the car. “Stay here.” Combeferre demanded of the others and met her halfway, holding her shoulders so that she’d look at him. They watched as he explained and she stood solidly until it finally seemed to connect and she sunk to the floor, sobbing. Combeferre held her close, not letting go as they sat on the floor.

Finally, Feuilly led the boys and Bahorel into the house. They were all crying at this point. Inside, people were staring out windows, trying to figure out what was going on. They all looked from dirty Bahorel to the boys to Feuilly. “Gavroche is dead.” Feuilly told them plainly. “And he’s not coming back because he’s fulfilled his goal.” Feuilly pointed subtly to the boys, who didn’t seem to understand nor want to understand.

Joly led Jehan out of the entryway since all the crying was upsetting him. “Oh dear. Well. I’ll. I’ll make her some tea.” Musichetta decided and Bossuet followed her like a wounded puppy. Cautiously, Feuilly looked to Enjolras, who had grown stony faced. Grantaire was staring at his feet.

“Angé?” Feuilly called, and Enjolras blinked and looked to him. Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, placing his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder.

“We’ve got to win now. If…if he died…we have to win.” Enjolras announced and Feuilly just watched. They all knew this wasn’t the most accurate way of thinking. Valjean had died in the nineteen forties and never returned assumedly because he had fulfilled his goal somehow. Gavroche’s goal would have no effect on theirs.

“I’m going to take Bahorel and the boys upstairs. Get them cleaned up for dinner.”

“Bossuet’s cooking.” Enjolras announced. At this point, that was their way of proclaiming takeout.

“Okay.” Feuilly responded, still not moving.

“Someone should let Courf know.” Enjolras continued and Feuilly stared for a moment before realizing that Enjolras was in no way implying that he, himself would do so.

“I’ll let him know. He at work again?” Feuilly asked and Enjolras gave a stiff nod.

“I’ll help you.” Grantaire decided, but Feuilly shook his head and gestured to Enjolras, who hadn’t moved or registered either of their actions. Grantaire nodded back and took Enjolras’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Finally, Enjolras reacted, looking down at their fingers and then to Grantaire, albeit expressionless. Carefully, Grantaire led him up the stairs to Enjolras’s own room.

From behind, they heard one of the boys ask Feuilly, “Are you a pirate?”

“…No.”

“You look like a pirate.”

Enjolras lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. At first, Grantaire took this to mean he could go, but Enjolras didn’t let go of his hand. Grantaire blinked. He lay down beside Enjolras and stroked the hair from Enjolras’s face. “I’ve been around that boy for two hundred years.” Enjolras informed Grantaire, who remained silent. “It wasn’t constant. But it was consistent enough that this hurts.”

“Of course.” Grantaire responded. Enjolras reached over and wrapped Grantaire in his arms so that Grantaire’s cheek was pressed against Enjolras’s chest.

“Please stay.” Enjolras requested.

“Okay.” Grantaire replied, seeing no reason to leave.

Downstairs, Combeferre had managed to cart Eponine inside, where she rested on the couch with a death grip on his shirt sleeve. She pulled him down to her so that they were inches away from one another’s faces. “I’m sorry?” Combeferre suggested and Eponine furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion before forcing him to sit beside her.

“What are you talking about?” She muttered back.

“For kissing you yesterday. Without your permission.” Combeferre responded, looking to his feet. She manhandled him back into her arms once more and kissed him plainly on the mouth.

“You forever have my permission.” She told him and kissed him again. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her back, letting her find in him a distraction.


	16. Hell's Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals. Enjolras and Grantaire fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of falling off wagon, dub-con sex, and the conversation afterwards.

_“I thought of angels_  
_Choking on their halos_  
_Get them drunk on rose water_  
_See how dirty I can get them_  
_Pulling out their fragile teeth_  
_And clip their tiny wings”_

_-“Just One Yesterday” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

The next day, everyone remained home. Enjolras tip toed into Eponine’s room only to see that she wasn’t there. Instead, he found her in Combeferre’s room, which didn’t entirely surprise him.

Enjolras walked into the music room to see Grantaire singing along with one of his songs. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened to Grantaire’s silvery voice. “You didn’t tell me you could sing.” Enjolras commented, scaring Grantaire which caused that beautiful voice to shriek and crack.

“You didn’t ask.” Grantaire replied after a long while of staring red faced at Enjolras’s breathless expression.

Silently, Enjolras wondered if Grantaire felt the way he had felt all those years ago. He wondered if Grantaire let him kiss him and hold him out of pity or a shared love. He needed to distract Grantaire from singing because it was doing things to him. "Dance with me?" He requested and Grantaire gave him a smile as he rolled his eyes and followed him out onto the tile.

As the day came closer to its end, everyone was downstairs. Even Javert, Cosette, and Marius had shown up with apologies from Fantine who had work.

Other than the recording room, storage room and the laundry room, their basement was one large area. It originally had several more rooms, but they knocked down the walls to create one room with a gaming area, a theater, a bar, a dance floor and a living room. This allowed them each to do what they enjoyed while being around those they loved.

Joly had gone back to work, which consisted of relocating the survivors and making sure they were comfortable. Bossuet and Musichetta played pool, occasionally joined by another member of the family. Courfeyrac had arrived home and either watched movies, talked to Enjolras or played with Musichetta and Bossuet. Combeferre and Eponine watched movies, but seemed to find their own conversations more entrancing. Enjolras rarely left the piano except to continuously refill his drink. Grantaire would help Jehan dance or play little games by themselves until Grantaire discovered the bar that Feuilly was tending.

“Aren’t you a year sober or something?” Feuilly asked.

“Perfect time to end the streak. Especially if I’m supposed to die sometime this year.” Grantaire informed him and Feuilly kept silent, but made eye contact with Enjolras, who remained blank faced.

By the time the sun set, even though none could tell, most were giddy with drink. Grantaire and Feuilly continued their conversations, and Feuilly would occasionally catch a hint that Grantaire remembered some past life, but then assumed that he was imagining it.

Grantaire was interrupted by Enjolras plopping down in his lap and kissing him straight on the mouth. Grantaire could taste the alcohol on Enjolras's lips. "Enjolras, you're drunk." Grantaire informed him, holding him back by his shoulders as Enjolras strained forward again.

"I don't drink." Enjolras gave Grantaire a sassy look and Grantaire's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh yeah? What's your address?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras stared back blankly.

"I don't drink." Enjolras insisted and Grantaire sighed, shoving Enjolras off his lap so that he could stand. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire's neck, but Grantaire held him off.

"You need to sleep it off." Grantaire decided and Enjolras tried to stop him with sheer blunt force.

"No!" Enjolras complained and then stopped, stomping his foot as he stood in front of Grantaire, who stared in amusement. "Fine. You're right; I'm drunk. You're very smart. Let's kiss now." Enjolras decided and Grantaire groaned as Enjolras placed his hands on Grantaire's cheek, nuzzling their noses together before kissing him gently. Grantaire exhaled when he realized that he had been holding his breath. Enjolras attempted to straddle Grantaire, but Grantaire groaned and pushed him away.

"Bed." He demanded and Enjolras smiled triumphantly.

As they rode up the elevator, Grantaire had to pull Enjolras off of himself multiple times so that he could figure out what to do with him. "You would never act like this if you weren’t drunk."

"I love you." Enjolras responded, running his fingers through Grantaire's hair as he kissed Grantaire's cheek.

"But you're not really consenting-" Grantaire gasped when Enjolras's hand touched him, his head banging against the wall behind him.

"What's there to consent to when I'm doing all the work?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire breathed roughly against Enjolras's mouth, feeling anger and desire rise within him. "With all that I've done to you, this just seems the perfect payback, doesn't it?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire pushed him off of himself before following, pulling Enjolras's hair to get him to follow into Enjolras’s bedroom, roughly kissing him all the way.

When Grantaire woke the next morning, he didn't move. Then he felt the bed shift beneath another weight, which made him jerk up to see Enjolras reading in bed beside him. Grantaire stared for a few moments before Enjolras looked over and smiled, running his fingers through Grantaire's hair. "You're not even hung over?" Grantaire asked and then realized that that was literally the last thing that mattered right now.

"I took some of that medicine Courfeyrac uses about an hour ago and I've been fine ever since." Enjolras shrugged and Grantaire stared, jaw dropped for a few more seconds before clearing his throat and struggling out from under the covers.

"I'm sorry, I'll just…go. I shouldn't have-I'll stay away." Grantaire decided and stood before realizing that he had no idea where his clothes were.

"You're going?" Enjolras tilted his head in confusion, putting the book down as he stared after Grantaire.

"Yeah, just…my clothes?"

"I put them in the wash. They smelled funny." Enjolras concluded and Grantaire blinked, staring. "Come here." Enjolras requested with worry in his eyes as he patted the spot that Grantaire had just vacated on the bed. Seeing no other option other than maybe hoping nobody was upstairs or in the entryway that clearly viewed the upstairs halls, Grantaire obeyed.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire informed Enjolras, staring down at the bed.

"For what?" Enjolras replied, taking Grantaire's hand in his and then rubbing his face against it.

"For taking advantage of you." Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows at Enjolras's weird actions.

"When?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire's shoulders slumped.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras nodded.

"I got drunk, kissed you, took you to my room and we had sex." Enjolras explained nonchalantly and Grantaire just stared, wide eyed and jaw dropped.

"You were drunk."

"Yes."

"And I had sex with you."

"Yes." Enjolras looked as though he was trying to be patient with Grantaire.

"By your standards, that's rape." Grantaire commented and then convulsed slightly at voicing the thought.

"What do you know of my standards?" Enjolras gave him a small smile and Grantaire thought about that for a moment before getting back on subject.

"Why aren't you upset with me right now?" Grantaire asked.

"I have been trying to gain the confidence or come across the right time to ask for this. Last night saved me that work. Now, we can get to the awkward post-coital conversation, as we are, and then go on dates, get married, save the world and live happily ever after."

"All planned out." Grantaire muttered beneath his breath.

"Yes."

"You do realize," Grantaire stood, grabbing some pants out of Enjolras's drawers, "that if this were any other situation, you would be screaming at me and demanding that I be castrated, right?"

"It's not any other situation." Enjolras didn't even deny it.

"So rape is okay if both members imply, while drunk, that they approve?"

"Well, if we're both drunk-"

"I was sober enough to know that I was in the wrong!" Grantaire snapped back, holding his hands out as if searching the room for an answer.

"Grantaire, I said I didn't care."

"I know!" Grantaire shouted. "That's the problem! You were just raped and you don't give a damn and now, you're trying to convince me that I was somehow not to blame?"

"I came onto you." Enjolras gave Grantaire a wary smile as if to lighten the mood.

"You're a joke." Grantaire growled and Enjolras blinked, tensing. "You fight against a brainwashing culture that says nothing else is right and yet, when the very wrong you're fighting against defeats you, you laugh it off as though nothing was wrong."

"You haven't defeated me."

"You are a victim of rape." Grantaire emphasized every syllable. "You've been taken down by a Freudian system that says sex only happens when both parties are willing."

"I'm not-"

"Was I your first?"

"What?"

"Was last night your first time?" Grantaire demanded.

"No."

"I don't believe you." Grantaire grumbled and slammed open Enjolras's bedroom door, leaving before seeing Enjolras stumble out of the sheets and hurry after Grantaire in nothing but his underwear.

"I was sober enough to accept, Grantaire." Enjolras informed him and Grantaire turned back to corner Enjolras against the wall, placing his hands on either side of him.

"Do you remember then? All the dirty things you said? The secrets told and weaknesses revealed? You don't even remember who did who." Grantaire hovered his lips over Enjolras's and Enjolras breathed roughly.

"Me…you." Enjolras suggested and Grantaire stepped away.

"No." Grantaire commented and looked Enjolras plain in the eye as Enjolras breathed. "And that's why I don't believe you. You lie while proclaiming to hold the only truth. You fight for things you've never gained in hopes that someone will take the fall because you sure as hell can't." With that, Grantaire stormed out of the house, leaving Enjolras jaw dropped.

After a few minutes, Courfeyrac exited his bedroom to see that Enjolras hadn't moved. "You okay?" Courfeyrac asked, taking in Enjolras standing at the top of the stairs in nothing but his boxers.

"I love him." Enjolras responded analytically while his eyes filled.

“Grantaire?” Courfeyrac asked carefully and Enjolras nodded, his face returning to its stoic manner before he turned and entered his room, shutting the door unceremoniously.


	17. Chasing the Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied drug use and alcoholism, and mentions of death and suicide.

_“If home is where the heart is_  
_then we're all just fucked_  
_I can't remember_  
_And I want it so bad_  
_I'd shoot the sunshine into my veins_  
_I can't remember_  
_The good old days”_

_-“27” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California  
**

“Feuilly-”

“You’re looking for Grantaire.” Feuilly replied and Enjolras didn’t even question his friend’s knowledge.

“Yes.” Enjolras readjusted the phone as he mixed the marinara sauce for that night’s dinner.

“He’s passed out in the back of the theater. Needle in his pocket and beer bottle in his hand. Oh.” Feuilly groaned and Enjolras narrowed his eyes, waiting for an explanation. “The bottle wasn’t empty. But it is now.” Feuilly complained and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“I’m coming to get him.” Enjolras informed him and Feuilly made an understanding noise before hanging up, presumably to clean up the beer. Enjolras looked around to see Courfeyrac sitting on the couch across the room, playing with his vintage smart phone.

“Courf, can you handle marinara sauce?” Enjolras asked and Courfeyrac gave him an offended look. “Don’t taste test it.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes.

“Oh, screw you.” He replied and stood, hopping over to sniff the sauce as annoyingly as possible. Enjolras ruffled his hair and hurried off to get Grantaire.

When he reached the studio, he saw Eponine glaring at Grantaire, who was snoring on the bench outside. Eponine shook Grantaire awake when she saw Enjolras. “Don’t you ever come back here drunk or high again, Grantaire.” Eponine snapped and Grantaire smirked back at her, giving her a wink.

Grantaire got into the car without a word and Enjolras looked at him, but then drove. Grantaire stared Enjolras down. “What?” Enjolras finally asked.

“Aren’t you going to yell?” He asked and Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows.

“I drove you to this, Grantaire. No, I’m not going to yell.”

“You didn’t drive me to this.” Grantaire muttered angrily and Enjolras gave him a confused look.

“Do you want me to yell?” Enjolras asked.

“Yes!” Grantaire responded as if it were obvious.

“Um, why?”

“Because then, I won’t do it again!” Grantaire announced, shifting around in his seat.

“Put your seat belt back on.” Enjolras commanded.

“See? When you’re angry, I’m sad and that makes me sad, so I do what I can to make you never angry again.” Grantaire explained and Enjolras sighed, remembering a time in which Grantaire could communicate eloquently despite drink or drugs. Grantaire had reached his seat belt halfway across himself, so Enjolras finished the job for him.

“I didn’t yell.”

“Do it!”

“No. You don’t deserve to be yelled at.”

“Why? Because you looove me?” Grantaire exaggerated, giving Enjolras a spiteful glance under his heavy eyelids.

“No, actually. Because I didn’t think how my actions would affect you. I hurt you and drove you to this.”

“Your actions don’t drive another person to drugs!”

“Yeah? Why’d you start them to begin with?” Enjolras snapped back.

“Because my parents are evil and I was never taught to cope!” Grantaire replied. He began to cry. “Now, if I ever get upset, you’ll let me do drugs. But you say you love me, Enjolras.” Grantaire explained and Enjolras finally understood Grantaire’s thought process.

“I’m never going to condone drugs. I don’t believe you should have resorted to them in this case or in any. But I’m not going to yell because yelling will just make it worse.” Enjolras clarified. “You have upset me. But I’ve upset you too, so I have no business yelling.”

“No yelling?” Grantaire whimpered out and Enjolras shook his head.

“You don’t yell at sad people to make them happy. You comfort them.” In reply, Grantaire was silent. Enjolras glanced at him again to see the reflection of Grantaire’s face in the passenger’s side window. He was awake, but dazed.

When they reached the house, Grantaire turned to face Enjolras again. “Will you comfort me?” He asked and Enjolras winced.

“Do you want me to?” Enjolras asked and he nodded. Enjolras felt his heart pang, but gestured for Grantaire to join him in the house.

Half an hour later, Enjolras cradled Grantaire in his arms on the couch. Grantaire had showered and it seemed as if the drugs, too, had worn off as he munched on crackers and downed water.

“The first time I died, I was killed with you?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras hesitated as he considered where Grantaire was going with this. “I’m not suicidal, Enjolras. Death sounds scary.”

“You didn’t agree with what we were doing. We were rioting against an oppressive government. Do you remember the June Rebellion?” Grantaire was playing with one of his hands while Enjolras had the other wrapped around him.

“No.”

“Yeah, not many people do. Anyway, you didn’t agree, but when you saw that I was about to die, you joined me instead of running. You took my hand and faced the bullets with me.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“It was brave. And it showed a considerable amount of loyalty on your behalf.”

“Were you scared?” Grantaire asked.

“Yes. I couldn’t quite tell because of all the adrenaline, but yes.” Enjolras explained.

“I was…loyal?” Grantaire suggested and Enjolras nodded before resting his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder. “I wish I was like that still.” He muttered out.

“Who says you’re not? After all you’ve gone through with us in a week, who says you’re not loyal? You could’ve left at any time.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could be that person who knew what he was going to stand for. Even if it’s not for the same thing as you, at least it was for you. Right now, there are so many conflicting thoughts running through my head that stripping it down to the basic facts seems impossible. I don’t know what I stand for. I don’t know what I would be willing to die for.” Grantaire gave a dry chuckle. “I think I’d be dead before I even considered the pros and cons of dying for something today.” He finished and they were both silent. Finally, Grantaire resituated himself so that he was lying across Enjolras’s lap, looking up at him. “Do you remember your life before then? Before dying the first time?” He asked and Enjolras shrugged, tensing slightly.

“I remember...feelings. I remember the barricades, for sure. I remember the excitement of doing something big.”

“Family?” Grantaire suggested when Enjolras stopped.

“Feelings.” Enjolras shrugged and Grantaire raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “They weren’t nice. I don’t remember why or how, but I remember finding them somewhat cruel.” He explained and Grantaire winced.

“What did you think of me?” Grantaire changed the subject and moved again so that he was sitting beside Enjolras, his lips against Enjolras’s cheek.

“You frustrated me. You were so passionate about not being passionate. I was working to make life easier for all of us, but you made fun of the idea. I didn't understand why.” Enjolras replied and Grantaire smirked.

“That sounds like me.” He muttered and Enjolras nodded before lifting Grantaire’s chin so that Grantaire would look into his eyes.

“Grantaire?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“Don’t do drugs again. Come to me first. Or…I don’t care, someone. A year sober to drop into drugs and alcohol within two days isn’t all that good. Please, let me help you.” Enjolras requested as Grantaire stared back, squinting.

“Okay.” Grantaire whispered back, his breath mixing with Enjolras’s. Enjolras gasped.

“Can I-” He stopped himself, looking from Grantaire’s lips to his eyes and back again. Grantaire bridged the gap, kissing Enjolras.

“Yo! Angé!” Courfeyrac called and they jumped apart. “I’m not making the noodles.”


	18. Foxes Hunt the Hounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras debates with the so-called president.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of racism and transphobia.

_“Follow the disorganized religion of my head…_

_Got my degree in the gutter  
My heart broken in dorms of the Ivy League”_

_“West Coast Smoker” by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

The next morning, Grantaire was woken by the loudest, most obnoxious noise he had ever heard. So much to the point that he fell out of bed. Of course, that could’ve been because Enjolras was taking over half of it. In contrast, Enjolras sat up slowly and stretched as he yawned.

“What the hell?” Grantaire complained.

“What’cha doing down there?” Enjolras asked, peering over the side of the bed.

“Why does your alarm clock sound like a drowning train with GoGo Valencia on it?” Grantaire barked back.

“’Cause I sleep like the dead because I should be dead.” Enjolras responded easily and Grantaire rolled his eyes before getting back in bed and pulling the covers over his head. Enjolras chuckled and Grantaire felt him kiss his head through the covers. “I have a recording to get ready for. I’ll see you tonight.”

Two hours later, Grantaire was sitting in the kitchen, which seemed to be everyone’s idea even though this wasn’t normal. Everyone was staring at the TV while Courfeyrac burnt bacon and perfected pancakes. Grantaire didn’t complain.

“What’s going to happen?” Grantaire whispered as everyone stared and was shushed by Eponine.

 _“And now, we’re back with the live debate between the infamous artist, Marble Liberty and president-actor, Jared Luego. Due to Marble Liberty’s desire to remain anonymous, he will be presented through a voice feed, while we have Mr. Luego here with us, today."_ Luego made some stupid and slightly creepy comment about always being with the reporter, who fake laughed it off a little too hard.

“Why didn’t Enjolras say anything about this?”

“He did. You were drunk.” Eponine responded and was then slapped on the shoulder by a reprimanding Feuilly.

“ _Why are you here, today, Marble Liberty_?”

“ _People want to know what I think without the nuances of song_.”

_“And what do you think?”_

_“We’ve crowned our muses. Proven by the fact that those present today, talking about politics, are actors and singers.”_

_“What’s wrong with that? People can have more than one job if they wish it.”_ Luego had entered the argument here.

_“Yes, but there should be more qualifications to enter the presidential position than wealth and health records.”_

_“Is everything you say today going to be an advertisement for your songs?”_ Luego snapped back and Enjolras was silent. Grantaire looked around to see Combeferre smile and Feuilly chuckle.

 _“I’m sorry, Luego. I haven’t researched you as much as you have me, so I can’t tell if you’re advertising your movies. But so you know, my songs are my speeches.”_ Enjolras finally replied and Combeferre rolled his eyes.

“He always has to have the last word.” Combeferre muttered and Grantaire smirked.

 _“When do you believe this issue started?”_ The reporter placed the two back on track.

 _“The joking election of that singer back in 2020. He placed himself in the primaries because of a longing for power. People voted for him as a joke and he still got in. Since then, it was his friends elected due to the belief that a lack of action is the best action. This ideology continued and politics became an ancient art. We need to get back to our beginnings as a nation.”_ Enjolras finished and Eponine whooped, throwing popcorn at the TV.

_“He didn’t want power; he wanted to make the country a better place.”_

_“Look where we are now.”_

_“A better place.”_

_“No. A classist dictatorship.”_ At this, Luego’s face was shown, bright red with veins bulging. _“Just because you’re talented in one area doesn’t mean that you’re talented in other areas. I don’t tell my doctors how to treat their patients, do I?”_

_“What would you do then? Become president yourself? You’re a singer, not a politician.”_

_“Nor are you. Find me a politician and I’d vote for him.”_

_“There are no politicians today if they’re not also a singer or an actor.”_

_“That’s the problem.”_

_“Is that what you think we should do, Marble Liberty? Elect the first sole politician we can find?”_ The reporter cut in.

 _“Let’s gather them up and see who has the credentials and wisdom.”_ Enjolras responded.

 _“We seem to be doing quite well politically.”_ Luego returned to Enjolras’s earlier topic of debate.

_“What about economically? There is no country willing to trade or form an alliance with us due to our insolence. What about socially? Our doctors live in squalor. Is that any way to treat a person whose life is in your hands? What happened to equality of all?”_

_“I know inequality when I see it. I’m a black transsexual.”_

_“That was a problem half a century ago. Not today.”_

_“You don’t know what I go through.”_

_“I’m a gay man who dealt with the white racism of 2060. That’s not what we’re here today to discuss.”_

Combeferre hissed. “He just made himself a forty year old.”

_“You don’t sound old enough.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“You don’t even know what is discussed in government.”_

_“Financial decisions? Name one.”_

_“That’s-”_

_“What about trade? Or the upcoming elections? Oh, wait, we were denied the human right to vote. Luego, all you discuss is your next big speech about how well society is doing now that we abuse our doctors and soldiers. Or your sex life. That’s always been a hot topic.”_

_“How dare-”_

_“Tell us then.”_

“He’s going to get himself killed.” Courfeyrac remarked.

_“I think we’re finished here. I don’t need to put up with this-”_

_“Wait, Mr. President, we have one more question for each of you!”_ The report announced and the man angrily sat back down. You could hear Enjolras’s smugness. _“Mr. President, what do you think of what Marble Liberty has said so far today?”_

_“I think that this was a foolish idea. Nobody should have to put up with the public ridicule of an amateur.”_

_“And Mr. Marble Liberty? What do you think?”_

_“As I sit by the window, I can see policemen directly outside of this studio. From what I understand, the second I stop talking, I’m going to be arrested. I think this was a clever trick to get me in custody.”_ He laughed maniacally. _“Good luck with that.”_ Static covered the track and the reporter quickly introduced the commercials as the crowd around her began an uproar of noise.


	19. Rhythm of the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert deals with Enjolras.

_"And I’m trying to find that peace of mind_

_Behind these two white highway lines_

_When the city goes silent_

_The ringing in my ears gets violent"_

_-"Jet Pack Blues" by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Los Angeles, California  
**

“Enjolras.” Enjolras tripped over his own feet as he paused midstep to turn and look at Javert, who had his hand resting on his gun and a blaring radio at his side.

“That’s not my name. Not now.” Enjolras replied, biting his lip as he stared Javert down. “You gonna arrest me, Javert?” Enjolras asked and looked around.

“That’s my job.”

“Yeah?” There didn’t appear to be anyone on the roof, but Javert was blocking the only easy way out of the alley. Enjolras looked around for a foothold to the roof.

“Enjolras, you promote the idea of a safer world, but in the same sentence condemn the authority that protects this promotion.”

“I condemn people who misuse authority.” Enjolras replied and Javert chuckled coldly.

“Am I one of them, Enjolras?”

“Are you arresting me, Javert?” Enjolras snapped back. “Admit it, old man. You’re only at peace if you have someone to put behind bars. They make you feel better. Because you took one step toward a more peaceable environment.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Your peaceable environment is a jail cell with invisible bars.” Enjolras snapped, but reminded himself to keep his voice down. This alleyway would be checked on if Javert didn’t report back soon. “You like having people bolster your ego.”

“And you don’t?” Javert raised an eyebrow, his jaw tensing.

“I don’t step on people to bolster it. I help them up and feel better about myself because I helped someone. You get off on pushing people down.”

“I get—I enjoy saving lives, Enjolras. You’re a rebel who kills.”

“Only those who deserve it.” Enjolras winced slightly, but didn’t let Javert see.

“I put bad people behind bars.”

“And what about the good ones that are back there? What about them?” Enjolras barked.

“I don’t put them there.”

“No, but you don’t help them out. A lack of action doesn’t mean a lack of indictment. You should know that, Judge Javes.” Enjolras forced himself to breathe. “The law isn’t gospel. It was written by men.”

“I don’t believe in God.”

“No, you believe in the law." Enjolras gave a chuckle and then sighed in frustration at his own lack of understanding this man. "Don’t you want to perfect it, Javert?”

“There’s no such thing as perfection, Enjolras.” Javert sighed, sounding like a father exasperated with a rebellious son. Maybe that's how he feels, Enjolras considered.

“You can’t prove a negative.”

“You seem to think you prove the lack of justice within America’s laws every day. How do you go about that, Patriot?”

“I can prove the absence of light because I’ve experienced an abundance. Nobody can disprove perfection because they’ve never experienced it.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I’m a politician; what did you expect?”

“You never got through your political science courses.”

“You still can’t prove a negative.”

“I can prove you’re an idiot.” Javert finally snapped and Enjolras smirked before running and jumping onto the wall up to the roof. Javert sighed and turned back out of the alleyway.

“ _North side, status_?” A voice called over the radio.

“We’re clear here.” Javert replied and walked back to the studio where his team was waiting.  

Later, as Javert entered the office, another police officer approached him. “Hey, man. Did you catch that ruddy bastard?”

“Nah. He parkoured onto the roof.”

“No way, man. Did you see him? What he looks like?” Javert filled his coffee cup.

“Only his back. Had a hood on.” Javert replied and the man grumbled.

“I bet’cha I could’ve gotten him. If only I had been there. I would’ve liked to see that man with a bullet between his eyes.”

“Well, there isn’t one. So you’re not missing anything yet.” Javert replied and the man chuckled.

“Yeah, man.”

“What about around here? Anything?” Javert asked as he sat down and began to type up his report of the incident.

“Slow day. Everyone’s terrified because of the terrorist attacks. You know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

“Guess it’s good.”

“Fear inciting people isn’t good. It can turn to chaos.”

“What do you know?”

“A bit more than you. A little bit of chaos can be good. It means that there’s still life in the world. But like everything else, balance is necessary.”

“In other words, you want to go beat up some bad guys, huh?”

“Yeah, I wanna beat up bad guys.” Javert smirked and the man clapped him over the back.

“Well. Hurry up and finish that report. We’re on duty tonight. Put some evil suckers behind bars, eh?”

“Oh joy.”

“Want me to call Fantine?” The officer asked as he danced around Javert’s desk.

“I got it.” Javert answered. When the officer finally left him alone, he called Fantine.

“Javert?” Fantine asked.

“Hey.”

“Are you alright? The news says there’s an officer down and I—”

“I’m fine. We—you didn’t know him.” Javert thought back to the man. The rookie. Michael approached a suspect without backup and had gotten himself killed for it. And Combeferre wondered why Javert was so tense around Enjolras.

“But you did. I’m sorry, honey.” Fantine replied, the emotion thick in her voice.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Hey, um. I called to tell you I won’t be in tonight. Last minute request for duty.”

“Alright. You stay safe.”

“I always have, my dear.” Javert replied, tension in his voice.

“Don’t take everything so personally. Remember, the highest law is conscience. Each insult to his own and not the law itself.” Javert remembered a time in which another had spoken these words to him.

“Did you love him?” Javert asked and Fantine sighed.

“Who?”

“Cosette’s father?” Javert pressed and there was silence on the line. For all that Javert knew, Valjean may have been Cosette’s father. Javert had theorized long and hard as to why Valjean would give up so much for this woman and her daughter. In the end, the relationship between Cosette and Valjean mirrored that between the girl and Javert today, which did nothing for Javert’s sense of grace and mercy.

“I thought I did.” Fantine whispered. “I love you, Javert.” She abruptly hung up. Javert pressed his lips together, thinking through this. Valjean was dead. There was no apparent new report of him alive that any of them could find, so it was unlikely that he was Cosette's father. However, Javert continued to wonder. What had Valjean's relationship been like with Fantine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The highest law is conscience. Each insult to his own and not the law itself" is a paraphrase of something Valjean once said to Javert.


	20. My Mind is a Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras gets home safely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of murder, and a character wishing for death.

_“How cruel is the golden rule? When the lives we live are only golden plated…_

_And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies_ _…_

_And all of the mothers raise their babies_

_To stay away from me_

_Tongues on the sockets of electric dreams"_

_“Golden” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

Courfeyrac muted the ad for toilet paper as Eponine muttered, “Seriously? Who isn’t using this?”

“Call Florence.” Feuilly looked to Musichetta, who fumbled for her phone and called the man as Grantaire called Enjolras, even though it was unlikely that Enjolras would have the time to answer.

“Hey, is he with you?” Florence asked when he picked up.

“No, he was at the studio less than a minute ago.” Musichetta pointed out and Florence cursed.

“Well, when you see him, let him know that I’m going to need bail money. They think I aided his escape.”

“He probably knows.”

“Yeah, well. Gotta go. I’m being arrested.” Florence muttered out angrily and Musichetta apologized before he hung up.

“He’s not there, but Florence is being arrested.” Musichetta informed them and they continued bustling about. Enjolras still wasn’t answering Grantaire.

“Would they have killed him?” Combeferre asked Javert over the phone and Grantaire turned pale. “’Cause it would suck if he came back to life on the autopsy table again.” Grantaire gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes.

“We should go look for him.” Courfeyrac decided.

“No. He knows what he’s doing.” Feuilly replied.

“What if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere? And it’s not like they’re going to give him a phone call.” Courfeyrac countered.

“Bahorel. We’ll place him in front of the police station. He can let us know if Enjolras appears.” Eponine decided and grabbed her keys, motioning with her head for Bahorel to follow her. The two of them hurried out the door with Luc and Philippe following.

“Javert says the police can't find him.” Combeferre informed them all and Grantaire called Enjolras again.

“Dude, give it up.” Bossuet patted Grantaire’s back and Grantaire squirmed away from him.

“Guys, relax. We found him.” Eponine reentered the kitchen with Bahorel behind her and Luc and Philippe hanging on Enjolras’s arms as he walked. Grantaire jumped into Enjolras’s arms, kissing him and Enjolras kissed back, but then pulled away.

“Okay, give me some air, please, guys.” He begged and sat down on the couch. Luc and Philippe sat down on either side of him, giving him an inch between them. Enjolras sighed then looked out at the room again. “So who’s going to hit me? Just so I know.”

“I’m ready to.” Combeferre muttered.

“Florence is if you don’t pay his bail.” Musichetta added.

“I’ll pay it.” Enjolras replied and pulled out his phone, but Luc grabbed it.

“Don’t call them. They want you to.” The little boy reminded him and Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows but nodded.

“I’ll go.” Feuilly decided and went to get the money from Enjolras’s safe.

“How’d you get away?” Philippe asked Enjolras.

“Parkour.” Enjolras responded, waving his hands in the air. The little boy giggled and copied Enjolras.

“I hope nobody saw you.” Musichetta commented, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah. I was wearing my mask.” He added and Combeferre groaned, banging his head against the counter. Bossuet wordlessly handed him an ice pack.

“Guys, look.” Courfeyrac turned up the TV to show a riot greeting Luego as he exited the studio followed by gunshots and the crowd’s roar growing louder. Enjolras winced and shook slightly. The two boys simultaneously hugged his sides.

 _“Shots have been fired as the crowd grows in lunacy against Luego’s debate with the infamous Marble Liberty. We have been informed of a body count of two so far as-”_ This new reporter was interrupted by another gunshot that caused Enjolras to groan as he placed his head in his hands. Combeferre turned it off, giving Courfeyrac a look.

“Innocent people led to believe that I would somehow support a riot.” Enjolras groaned.

“Innocent people who took things into their own thoughtless hands.” Eponine remarked.

“Led by my words.”

“It’s not all about you.” Eponine gave him a look and he glanced at her. “They acted due to their own beliefs. You had nothing to do with it other than giving them a time and place at which they could riot.”

“I’m officially a killer.” Enjolras paled again.

“Enjolras.” Eponine started.

“I had to kill a police officer to get out of there. He would’ve killed me.” He explained and Combeferre warily turned on the TV to see video of such a death.

"You’ve killed before. You're the Patriot.” Grantaire pointed out.

“Yes, but I always have a reason. A reason more than protecting myself.” Enjolras remarked.

“Enjolras, you have become the face of hope. The face of rebellion and whatever else this all is.” Courfeyrac reminded him. “Anything you do for yourself is now done for the rebellion. For the Cause.” Courfeyrac smirked and Enjolras stared up to him with lips pressed together as he considered this.

“I wish it ended there.” Enjolras remarked and they all stared, waiting for an explanation as he turned red and tears welled up in his eyes. Combeferre, Eponine and Courfeyrac started, surprised to see a form of emotion that strong within Enjolras. “At the June Rebellion.” He whispered out and Grantaire shook his head.

“We need you today, Enjolras. If you weren’t here, all would go to hell.” Grantaire pointed out.

“And as soon as I die this time around, all will go back to going to hell.” Enjolras responded. “I can delay it, but there’s no way to completely stop it.”

“I am convinced that there will always be someone around to be a superhero.” Bossuet commented. “Right now, you. Later on, someone else. Maybe your and Grantaire’s lovechild.” He smirked and Grantaire smiled back warily. “The world doesn’t just stop making good people.”

“What if it does?” Enjolras asked, looking up to Bossuet with wide, hurt eyes. “If I’m what we have and what we’ve had for the past two hundred years, where were the superheroes then?”

“Well, you’ve been around that long, so clearly something knows that the world would need you that long.” Bossuet added, biting his lip as Enjolras sighed and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep. The two boys snuggled up to him and napped with him.

Eponine narrowed her eyes and left the room as Grantaire readied some more food. Combeferre followed her while Musichetta and Bossuet headed upstairs.

“The last thing Gavroche told me was that I wasn’t a very good sister because I didn’t care about finding those boys.” Eponine told Combeferre, who wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You’ve done well with them the last few days.” He commented, placing his lips on her shoulder.

“A few days. And they still connect to anyone else who isn’t me better than me.” Eponine explained and winced.

“They connect to anyone who smiles at them. You’re a bit too close to home for them right now. They’ll get used to you. And remember, we’re all here for them. You don’t have to care for them alone.” Combeferre explained.

“But I should.”

“They don’t seem to think so.” Combeferre pointed out and Eponine sighed before turning to kiss him. He chuckled against her lips. “Is that your way of telling me to drop the subject?” He asked and she nodded slightly, running her fingers through his hair as they kissed.


	21. Make It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire talk while Combeferre and Courfeyrac talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied sexual content and self-inflicted injuries, mentions of depression, PTSD, hallucinations, and HIV.

_“If I_ _spilled my guts the world would never look at you the same way_

_And now I'm here to give you all my love  
So I can watch your face as I take it all away”_

_\- “Just One Yesterday” by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

“Hey Combeferre- _Oh lord_.” Courfeyrac slammed Combeferre’s door shut again when he saw Eponine and Combeferre kissing, naked in bed. He looked down the hall to see Enjolras giving him a confused look as he emerged with Grantaire. “Shoulda knocked.” Courfeyrac explained, his face bright red as tears welled up in his eyes. “Shoulda knocked. Shoulda knocked.” He continued muttering to himself as he stumbled into his own room, shutting the door.

Enjolras stared after Courfeyrac for a few moments and then rolled his eyes as Combeferre emerged, wearing a robe. “Dude. Gross. Go take a shower.” Enjolras commented and Combeferre scratched his head in confusion.

“Don’t I need to talk to him?” Combeferre asked.

“I wouldn’t.” Grantaire commented; his nose wrinkled as he stared at Combeferre.

“Yeah, but with the relationship they’ve got, he should. But he should shower first.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at Combeferre as Grantaire rolled his eyes and headed into his own room to change. Enjolras followed suit as Combeferre sighed and showered as he was told.

After changing, Enjolras followed Grantaire into his room and sat on the bed, watching as Grantaire talked to someone on the phone and stared out the window. Finally, Grantaire hung up and turned back to Enjolras. “I hope we never end up like that.” Enjolras commented.

“Don’t break up with me.” Grantaire smirked back at him.

“What if you break up with me?” Enjolras asked.

“I never will.” Grantaire commented and leaned over Enjolras, kissing him as he pushed him onto the bed on his back.

“But I would?” Enjolras asked with a wary smirk, pushing Grantaire away for a moment.

“Like Combeferre, you don’t like it when people know your secrets. I know your secrets.”

“I don’t have secrets.” Enjolras countered and scrambled around so that he was lying beside Grantaire instead of beneath him.

"Says the man with two secret identities."

"Technically three. If anyone knew who I really was-"

“You like to have control of every situation.”

“Not a secret.” Enjolras commented, playing with Grantaire’s shirt.

“You’ve had sex before me. But only once and you didn’t like it. With me, you like it because we’ve got a different form of intimacy. I’m assuming it was a onetime thing with Combeferre? It was awkward because you guys are more like brothers than lovers.”

“Really?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, but blushed at the accuracy.

“You have PTSD almost worse than you do depression.” Grantaire continued and Enjolras closed his eyes, pressing his face to Grantaire’s chest. “You want to know why I know that?” He asked, running his fingers through Enjolras’s hair.

“No.”

“Because you have bruises on your thighs and stomach. Some scars too. Hurting yourself is how you resurface from a hallucination. Your eyes go wild sometimes and I watch as you reach for your stomach.”

“Grantaire, stop.” Grantaire changed the subject.

“If you were forced to choose between me and the cause, you’d choose me. At least, these days you would and that terrifies you.”

“What makes you think that?” Enjolras sat up and Grantaire copied him.

“You don’t believe that this is the cause that’s going to allow your aging to continue. You think we’re all going to die in this fight again and come back. But you also think that I’m going to die and not come back.”

“You’ll come back. I need you.” Enjolras’s eyes filled and Grantaire pulled him back into his arms.

“This is it, Enjolras. Even Combeferre agrees. I wouldn’t have to die before my thirties that way, right?” Grantaire reassured him and Enjolras shook. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s hands that were heading for his stomach and kissed him hard. “No more of that. I’m here.” He demanded against Enjolras’s lips and Enjolras kissed him back hungrily.

Meanwhile, Combeferre headed downstairs to see Courfeyrac sitting in the basement, flipping through movies. “Hey.” Combeferre called and Courfeyrac didn’t respond. “Did you need me for something?”

“Feuilly and Eponine have a performance tomorrow and I wanted to know if you got us all tickets yet.” Courfeyrac muttered beneath his breath.

“Yes, I have.” Combeferre answered and sat down on the couch behind Courfeyrac. “What’s bothering you?”

“What do you think?” Courfeyrac snapped back, turning to glare at him.

“My relationship with Eponine.” Combeferre replied and raised an eyebrow. Courfeyrac looked away and sniffed, annoyed with Combeferre’s calmness.

“I always thought-I thought that you’d come back to me. Eventually. When you could feel again without wanting to claw your heart out.” Courfeyrac explained and Combeferre stared back with old eyes.

“’Fey, we’ve been through this.”

“No. You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.” Courfeyrac barked and Combeferre sat up straighter.

“Courfeyrac. We never would’ve worked for centuries on.”

“What, so you don’t care anymore?”

“Courf-”

“Is Eponine just another stepping stone to your death? If you don’t die within the next hundred years, will you discard her too?”

“I do care, Courf, that’s why I’m here.”

“No, you’re here because of your guilty conscience.” Courfeyrac responded and put in an old Disney movie about betrayal. “Nobody cares anymore. I’m the single in the household. The bachelor.”

“Feuilly-”

“Feuilly doesn’t have HIV!” Courfeyrac snapped back and Combeferre narrowed his eyes at him.

“You realize you’ll be over it within a month at most, right?” Combeferre asked and Courfeyrac stood, standing above Combeferre.

“So who cares, yeah?” Courfeyrac hissed, his eyes welling up again.

“Courf, we’re all going to help you through it. Of course, that’s if you tell people.”

“You’re a doctor, you should’ve noticed by now. Even Joly did.” Courfeyrac blinked the tears from his eyes, looking away from Combeferre and stepping back. “There was a time you would’ve noticed something like that first.” Courfeyrac plopped down on the beanbag chair.

“There was a time in which you would’ve mentioned it to me first.” Combeferre snapped back, standing and walking toward the door.

“Why would I do that now, Mr. Ex?” Courfeyrac called and Combeferre turned back to look at him.

“Why'd you ever?” Combeferre growled, glaring him down.

“Make it easy, then. Say I never mattered to you.” Courfeyrac spat.

“You’ve always mattered.” Combeferre whispered back. “Just because I don’t sleep with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You’re family. And you’ll always matter.” Combeferre stared Courfeyrac down with worried eyes before turning away, clenching his fists together and leaving.

Courfeyrac squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together.


	22. Get Through Customs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire argue about life and its risks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of deaths and sexual and child abuse implications.

_“And I'm starting to forget_  
_Just what summer ever meant to you_  
_What did it ever mean to you?_

_Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it_

_I just got too lonely_  
_In between being young and being right_

_You were my Versailles at night.”_

_“Fourth of July” by Fall Out Boy_

  **2080, Beverly Hills, California  
**

That night, Feuilly and Enjolras were analyzing the responses to the show on which Enjolras had appeared. “Where’s Florence?” Grantaire sat down beside them.

“At home.” Enjolras responded.

“Enjolras.” There was a warning in Grantaire’s voice as he recognized what Enjolras was doing.

“Yes?”

“No.” Grantaire pointed to him and Enjolras poked his fingertip.

“Yes.”

“You are not doing another concert when people died last time. And when the police are still actively looking for you.”

“That’s why I have to. To show that they haven’t scared me into hiding.”

“A wise man _would_ be scared into hiding.” Grantaire pointed out.

“I have one thing wise men don’t have. Immortality.”

“Your followers don’t. Florence doesn’t.” Grantaire pointed out.

“It’s fine, Grantaire. This is an underground concert. Only those who actually agree with me will be attending.”

“That’s what you think.” Grantaire muttered.

“You’re so willing to be skeptical of people’s abilities until it’s of their abilities to kill me. Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” Enjolras questioned and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“I’m skeptical of good. Evil I have no doubt in.”

“That’s pessimistic.”

“No, it’s realistic.”

“I’ve seen you live four separate lives and yet, that statement always comes from your lips.”

“At least this time, you do too.” Grantaire pressed his lips together and Enjolras rolled his eyes with a small smirk, his face reddening. 

“Oh, ew. ’Kay, back on topic please.” Feuilly requested.

“We can’t do a concert here. It’ll blow my cover.”

“Where else, Angé?” Feuilly demanded desperately.

“The studio. Or the theater that Eponine works at.”

“We don’t want Eponine arrested.”

“Fine, then the studio. They already know that I go there to record.” Enjolras pointed out.

“You’re going to die.” Grantaire grumbled.

“It’s okay; I’ll come back soon.” Enjolras answered. “Florence’s defense can be that he didn’t know who it was renting out his front lawn.”

“ _We_ could have that defense.”

“Yes, but they’re already looking at Florence. We don’t need them digging into our lives as well. They’ll find a lack of birth records for one.” Enjolras suggested.

“Enjolras, please don’t do this.” Grantaire begged, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What if I get hurt?” He added, hoping that that would make a difference.

“You’re not coming.” Enjolras informed him and Grantaire blinked.

“You think I’m letting you go alone?”

“I won’t be alone. Combeferre and Feuilly will protect me. Not to mention Bahorel’s muscles.”

“They don’t know you as well as I do.”

“You think your week of knowing me is more significant than Feuilly or Combeferre’s two hundred years? Do you remember?”

Grantaire gritted his teeth and Enjolras held his hands up as if that proved his point. “I know how to read you better. I can see when you’re going to do something stupid, so I can stop you.”

“I think we all have that ability nowadays, Grantaire. We’ve had enough practice.” Feuilly answered as he wrote something down and Enjolras glared at him, but rolled his eyes.

“See? I’ll be fine. You’ll be safer here.”

“Why would I be safer here while everyone else will be fine out there with you?” Grantaire snapped.

“Feuilly, can you let me have a word with Grantaire for a moment? Alone?” Enjolras asked and an amused Feuilly left the room. Enjolras turned around and stood, looking Grantaire in the eye, which allowed Grantaire to see the tears that had gathered in Enjolras's. “You’ve said it before and I don’t want to say it again. If you die, there’s a large chance that you won’t come back. And I’m not risking that. Everyone else will come back until the problem is officially solved, but your problem is different. To be honest, Eponine’s probably not going to be let out there either.”

“Eponine?”

“She’s loved. Finally. Someone loves her and she loves them back.” Enjolras explained and Grantaire stopped from rolling his eyes. He saw that as cheesy, but they saw it as a success.

“Enjolras, why are you doing this? You don’t even think this is going to fix anything for your family.”

“Yes, but it’ll fix the place we live.” Enjolras stared back intensely.

“Don’t…Enjolras, if this is my last life, let’s think of something else to do.” Grantaire pulled on Enjolras’s shirt, trying to regain his full attention.

“We can save the world.” Enjolras pointed out.

“I’m tired of facing odds, Enjolras!” Grantaire smacked his fist against Enjolras’s chest, but stopped so that the impact wouldn’t hurt the man. A small sob mounted in his throat. “All my life, I’ve been forced to fight against things to survive or to be happy. Just this once, Enjolras. Let me live with you, happily. No fighting.” Grantaire begged and Enjolras stared down at him with tears in his eyes.

“Nobody is ever going to hurt you again, Grantaire. I promise you. I promise you that.”

“That’s the promise I held onto all my life. When you first appeared to me when I was ten. I thought you’d stop them. From hurting me. Where were you, Enjolras?” Grantaire looked at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that reminded Enjolras that this man was only in his twenties compared to Enjolras’s bicentenary. “Please, just stop, Enjolras. Stop multitasking and protect me.” Grantaire begged, pressing his face to Enjolras’s chest.

“I’m going to protect you. With all that I have. But to do that, I have to get rid of the primary threat against our lives. Today’s government is going to kill us all. It’s going to end the world.”

“My world is already ending.” Grantaire muttered and glared.

“Not if I can help it. I will fight to the end, Grantaire. Nothing can stop me from protecting you. You’ll never hurt again on my watch. You just have to be patient.” Enjolras kissed him gently.

“I’m not letting you go without me.” Grantaire replied.

“Why?” Enjolras asked, but Grantaire just stared back. “You can’t stop someone from hurting me, Grantaire.”

“I can stop you from doing something stupid that ends up hurting you.” Grantaire informed him and Enjolras shook his head.

“You don’t believe in anything we’re doing.”

“I know.”

“Why bother, then?”

“Because I believe in you, Enjolras! I thought that was obvious the first time I died for you!” Grantaire barked back and Enjolras jumped slightly at the reminder. “I believe in you, so I have a reason for being there. You don’t believe in this cause, though, so why are you going?”

“I believe in the safety of my family. And the rights of humankind.” Enjolras stared Grantaire in the eyes. “If that means dying or attending stupid riots and concerts, that’s what I’ll do. But that doesn’t mean you need to be there. That would counteract my promise to protect you.”

“Protect me by leaving! Let’s run away, Enjolras. Please. Let’s go. Let’s go somewhere where nobody will hurt us.” Grantaire pressed his cheek hard against Enjolras’s chest and Enjolras held him close.

“We’re going there, Grantaire. This is the journey.”


	23. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire, Eponine and Feuilly perform Giselle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to sex.

_"I’m just a problem that doesn’t want to be solved_

_So could you please hold your applause_

_Take this sideshow and all its freaks_

_And turn it into the silver screen dream"_

_-"Novocaine" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles, California**

“Hey! Hey! Enjolras! What’s your favorite color?” Musichetta asked, lying her head in his lap as he ate breakfast.

“Guess.” He gave her a look.

“Red then.”

“The color of communism.” Grantaire giggled and Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him.

“The color of rebirth.”

“Ew.” Eponine muttered as she entered the room.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at the studio, getting ready?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire turned pale as Eponine sighed.

“Feuilly’s setting up. We’re going to meet him there in an hour or so.” Eponine explained.

“’Kay, so ‘red’ the color of a dawning world. The blood of angry men.” Musichetta expressed and waved her hand in the air.

“What’s wrong with you?” Enjolras questioned.

“I’m gonna make a movie about your lives.” Musichetta gave him the world’s biggest grin.

“Don’t release it until we’re dying.” Enjolras informed her and Musichetta shrugged and nodded as she wrote down the dramatics she had just stated.

“What about you, Grantaire? Favorite color?”

“Red, the color of communism.” Grantaire repeated and licked his spoon off.

“Really? Ice cream for breakfast?” Eponine asked him. “You have two shows today.”

“Thank you for the reminder.” Grantaire grumbled.

“Who would’ve guessed? Grantaire has stage fright.” Enjolras commented and Grantaire blushed as he glanced at Enjolras in bewilderment.

“Red, the color of Grantaire’s face when Enjolras teases him.”

“I’m gonna burn that.” Grantaire pointed to Musichetta’s notebook and she glared back before scratching out a line and leaving the room.

“Come here.” Enjolras held out his hand to Grantaire, who walked around the kitchen’s island and took Enjolras’s hand. Enjolras led him downstairs to the dance floor and sat at the piano. “This your music?” He asked Grantaire, who nodded suspiciously. “Okay, first position.” Enjolras shouted over dramatically and Grantaire smirked before preparing for his performance.

Enjolras began to play and Grantaire danced along. A little more than halfway through, Enjolras stopped and rose to walk over and catch Grantaire in a kind of slow dance to silence. “There, see? You can do this.” Enjolras whispered against Grantaire’s cheek. “Pretend it’s just me watching and you’ll have no trouble performing.”

“Wow, Enjolras, I never would’ve taken you for a double entendre kind of guy.” Musichetta announced from the stairs. “Grantaire, Eponine says it’s time to go. And Grantaire?” She repeated and Grantaire gave her an impatient look. “I’m keeping the line and hiding the book.” She informed him and winked before leaving as Grantaire rolled his eyes.

When they reached the theater, Luc and Philippe sat between Courfeyrac and Enjolras. “Are you sure he’s not a pirate?” Luc asked Enjolras when Feuilly walked on stage to introduce the performance.

“Yeah, why?” Enjolras asked.

“He looks like a pirate.” Luc commented and turned to cross his arms over his chest as he stared forward again. Enjolras looked forward and realized what Luc meant. Feuilly tended to wear eyeliner, had a short, red beard, and wore earrings and tattoos.

“You’re right. I think he’s secretly a pirate.” Enjolras commented and the lights went down as Luc turned to beam at Enjolras. Once it had begun, Enjolras and Combeferre were completely drawn in. It was Courfeyrac who took the boys out when they got antsy and began trying to glue the pamphlets to Enjolras’s face with their spit. Enjolras didn’t seem to care, but they were getting looks from the people around them.

At the end of the performance, they grouped back together and Enjolras immediately began. “That was so well done. The portrayal of Hilarion seemed so selfless and giving and then Giselle so vain while Albrecht was the Judas of the performance. Each character seems so true to reality as they—” Enjolras was cut off by Grantaire’s mouth on his. “Hi.” Enjolras finally pulled away and tilted his head at Grantaire.

“Hi.” Grantaire replied with a small chuckle. “I love you.” He finished and Enjolras beamed.

“And I love you.” He replied and wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s neck despite the sweat that now covered them both. “Not scared anymore, right?” Enjolras asked and heard Grantaire give a noncommittal moan. They parted and Enjolras congratulated Eponine and Feuilly as well, but the three were quickly carted away backstage to change.

“Hey, so dinner’s on me tonight!” Courfeyrac announced and Enjolras thought back to the fact that it was Courfeyrac’s night to make dinner. Of course.

“I’m going to stick around for a little longer.” Grantaire announced, appearing shirtless with a towel over his shoulders.

“I—you, the—there are showers back there?” Enjolras asked and heard Eponine snort. He gave her a look.

“I need practice.” Grantaire evaded the question, giving Enjolras a questioning glance.

“Less cost on me.” Courfeyrac muttered and was elbowed by Feuilly.

“Grantaire, we’ll all be here early tomorrow to practice.”

“Key words; ‘we all’.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Feuilly rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Everyone in my car.” He announced and they all headed out.

At the door, Enjolras stopped. “You’re going to wait for him?” Combeferre asked and Enjolras nodded.

“No shower sex!” Eponine called and Combeferre rolled his eyes as Enjolras blushed.

“Have a good night.” Enjolras replied and reentered the theater. When he saw that Grantaire hadn’t noticed his entrance, he smiled. He crept up behind him and wrapped his arms around Grantaire as if to continue the dance, but Grantaire let out a blood curling shriek and bonked Enjolras over the head with his foot. “Ow! What the hell?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire stood staring defensively.

“Enjolras? What are you doing?”

“I was going to be romantic and all Sleeping Beauty dance in the woods, but you hit me!”

“You scared the crap out of me!” Grantaire responded and Enjolras sighed.

“I’m kidnapping you.” He decided and Grantaire smirked, giving him a disbelieving glance.

“How do you plan on doing that?” Grantaire requested and Enjolras shrugged.

“Come on!” Enjolras took his hand and tried to rush out of the theater, but Grantaire didn’t move, pulling Enjolras back into him.

“I need to practice.”

“Only in front of people. You’re fine until you’re in front of people. And even then I don’t see a problem. You are just paranoid.” Enjolras poked him and Grantaire let Enjolras go.

“Where are we going?” Grantaire asked.

“That was easy. I’ll show you the city from the Patriot’s view.” Enjolras gave him a big grin and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.


	24. Teenage Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Combeferre try to convince Grantaire and Eponine respectively that the world isn't all that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of drugs, medicating depression and PTSD, referenced sex, and a discussion on suicide.

  _“‘Cause I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light.”_

_-"Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California**

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on top of a building that reached far into the sky. They were both silent as they stared out across the lights and the remnants of the Hollywood sign on the faraway hill. Ultimately, it had been replaced by a larger Hollywood sign that was placed in plainer view within the city. It just proved the actors’ god complexes.

“I can’t tell if you’re Spiderman or Aladdin.” Grantaire randomly commented and Enjolras thought it through.

“Well, I’m not poor and I don’t have a genie in a lamp.”

“So, I’m Mary Jane?”

“More like Markus Miller.”

“Okay, nerd. Like who?”

“Whom. Did you want to be Jasmine?” Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who’s Markus Miller?”

“She was a princess.” Enjolras ignored Grantaire as he continued this train of thought.

“I am a princess. Answer the question.” Grantaire demanded and Enjolras burst out laughing.

“He was Spiderman’s gay lover, side-kick in the 40’s.”

“Spiderman’s not gay.”

“He was in 2040. He was also black and smoked weed.”

“Good grief. The 40’s were insane.”

“Combeferre says they were the 70’s of last century.” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not quite old enough to understand. But I get the gist.”

“’Kay, you referenced Aladdin, Spiderman and Mary Jane. All of whom were created last century. Clearly, the twentieth century had a more lasting impact on the world than this century’s feeble attempts.” Enjolras sighed, kicking a rock off the building. Grantaire watched it fall and wondered if it would have enough momentum to kill someone standing below. “If this century wasn’t so obsessed with glorifying those who entertain, entertainment would be time worthy.”

“So, neither of us are time worthy.” Grantaire pointed out and Enjolras’s head snapped over to look at Grantaire.

“I didn’t mean you.” Enjolras insisted and Grantaire raised an eyebrow, waiting. “First of all, you performed Giselle, which was created in the twentieth century. Second of all, it wasn’t broadcasted all over the world. Third, you did it because you love it, not because you love the glory.”

“I have stage fright.”

“You still like dancing.”

“And you?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras inhaled sharply as he searched the city beneath them for an answer.

“I perform to get a point across. That’s rare today.” He explained and Grantaire nodded.

“Do you know what you’re really good at, Enjolras?”

“Um, well—”

“Talking.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Do you know what you’re really bad at?”

“I—”

“Also talking.” Grantaire continued and placed his hand on Enjolras’s neck, pulling him in to kiss him. When Enjolras froze, Grantaire sat up and threw one leg over Enjolras’s lap, wrapping his arms around Enjolras’s neck as they kissed. Grantaire sighed, but Enjolras grunted.

“Are we going to do this, now?” He asked and Grantaire continued to give him sloppy kisses.

“Well, I was thinking we’d just make out, but if you’re into that kind of thing…” Grantaire chuckled against his lips, grinding their hips together and Enjolras squeaked, pushing him away.

“We were talking.” Enjolras reminded Grantaire.

“And then I stopped you.” Grantaire added and then whispered, “on purpose.” Enjolras sat in confused silence for a little while and Grantaire sighed. “What’cha want to talk about, Angé?”

“Affirmative action.” Enjolras suggested and Grantaire groaned.

“Boring.”

“I just sat through a ballet for you.” Enjolras teased.

“You enjoyed it.”

“Not my point.” Enjolras pointed at him. "Isn't there anything you believe in?"

"I believe in you."

"Anything cause worthy?" Enjolras gave him a look and Grantaire raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Enjolras, if I believed in anything cause worthy, I wouldn't be able to present my belief because I can't reach my own standards."

"What are your standards?" Enjolras continued and Grantaire sighed.

"We've been through this, Enjolras. You are my standard. But you don't seem to think so. Seeing as you're working for death." Grantaire finished and Enjolras stiffened, turning away from him. Still, Grantaire scooted closer, nuzzling his ear. “Will I enjoy a talk on affirmative action?”

“You just might, seeing as you’re one who needs it.”

“No I don’t. I’m a performer, remember?”

“You also need medication.” Enjolras pointed out and watched as Grantaire turned bright red. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. There were loads of brilliant people who needed medication to help them get through things.”

“What medication do you know of that I need?” Grantaire grumbled.

“Well, I’m assuming antidepressants.” Enjolras cocked his head as Grantaire avoided eye contact. “And if you remember, you’ve got PTSD.”

“I never said I remembered.”

“You never said you didn’t.”

“Enjolras.”

“Grantaire.”

“Shut up and talk about black, gay Spiderman.”

Back home, Eponine and Combeferre were sitting in the spa. Feuilly was mindlessly strumming his guitar by the fire pit with Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Courfeyrac, who were eating s’mores. Bahorel was playing in the pool with Luc and Philippe while Jehan hung his feet into the water while humming along with Feuilly.

“They’ve been out for a while.” Combeferre commented as he checked his phone.

“That shower better be pristine tomorrow.” Eponine muttered and Combeferre kissed her cheek.

“Hate to ruin your vibrant imagination, but I don’t think that’s what Enjolras was after.”

“Well, what else—he’s being a nerd again, isn’t he?” Eponine commented and Combeferre shrugged with a slight nod.

“That’s what I’m assuming. He probably wants to discuss the ballet in detail, somehow relate it to our lives and then go from there. You know how those two always get carried away.”

“How would Giselle be related to our lives?”

“Enjolras can do it. He’d probably comment on the fact that classes are what ultimately ruined love and lives. Similar to how classes are ruining lives today.”

“It’s different.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re going to fix it.” Combeferre replied, hugging her close and Eponine rolled her eyes, ruffling her hand through his hair. He wiped at the water dripping into his face.

“Poor Grantaire. Another victim of Enjolras’s insatiable quest for perfection.” Eponine sighed, leaning against Combeferre.

“It’s insatiable because it hasn’t amounted.”

“It’s not going to.” Eponine looked Combeferre in the eyes and he started to retort, but stopped himself. “Anything that could go wrong, will. Just like every other time Enjolras tried to save the world. Murphy’s law.”

“Not this time.” Combeferre avoided eye contact as he violently shook his head.

“That’s what you guys say every time.” Eponine forced him to make eye contact and he closed his eyes. She giggled and let go of his chin, but he just furrowed his eyebrows together.

“And what about my theory?”

“About how we die? Enjolras is going to live forever.” Eponine muttered under her breath and didn’t look up in Combeferre’s silence.

“And you?” He eventually asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think I am the imminent cause of your death.” Combeferre replied and Eponine winced, staring him down. “You needed to be loved and accepted for who you are. I’ve done that.”

“Oh. Well, there goes my shot at immortality.” She smirked and he scoffed.

“None of us want immortality.”

“Right, we’re all a little suicidal.” Eponine informed him a few inches away from his lips.

“That’s not fair.” Combeferre complained, pushing her back by her shoulders and Eponine gave him a look. “We’re not suicidal if we know we’re going to wake up again. We’re dying for a cause and we’re tired of life after three hundred years. You see people at ninety admit that.”

“We want to die.” Eponine stopped him and he inhaled sharply. “By definition, that’s suicidal.”

“But we don’t act on it.”

“Yeah.” Eponine scoffed and Combeferre rolled his eyes. Between Enjolras’s recklessness and Javert’s attempts on his life, there was little truth in Combeferre’s statement that Eponine saw.

 “You honestly don’t think anything’s gotten better in the past three hundred years?” Combeferre whispered in her ear.

“Is this where I give you some cheesy comment about how you make everything better?”

“Be realistic.”

“You part the clouds in my sky.” She gestured wildly and he wiped the water from her arms off his glasses before giving up and putting them on the chair behind them.

“Realistic.”

“Life’s a bitch and we’ve pulled the long straw. Literally.” Eponine looked up to see Combeferre with a puppy’s pout. “Combeferre.” She wrapped an arm around his neck. “I admire your optimism, truly, but what good do you see in this world?”

“People aren’t extinct. We evolve with the times. Look at society, Ep. People are heartbroken and terrified by the attacks on the wards. People still feel for one another.”

“Only when it benefits them.” She began to tease his earlobe with her mouth and his breath caught momentarily.

“What’s the benefit of grieving for a loved one? What benefit does a parent get from loving their children in a psychiatric ward? What benefit does a child get in caring for their parents when they’re old? Where is the benefit in loving a boyfriend or girlfriend? People love. That’s all we can do, Eponine, is love. Which may sound cliché.” She giggled as she kissed him and he smiled. “But it’s true.”


	25. Melody of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fantine remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of previous deaths.

_“Did you ever love her? Do you know?  
Or did you never want to be alone? _

_I've got those jet pack blues_  
 _Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me_  
 _Honey, don't you leave_ ”

_-“Jet Pack Blues” by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“Hi, honey, I’m home.” Javert called and Fantine stuck her head around from in the kitchen with a faint smile.

“And what sort of time do you call this?” Fantine replied as Javert grabbed her waist and kissed her forehead.

“Where are the kids?” Javert asked, not hearing any guitar playing from within the apartment.

“Date night. For them and for us.” Fantine pulled him into the kitchen where she had set up dinner with candles. Javert chuckled.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.” Javert commented and kissed her before she pushed him down into a chair and sat across from him. He moved to serve her, but she stared him down, so he stopped and looked at her. “Something wrong?”

“No. Sorry.” She motioned for him to continue and Javert did so, though tensely realizing that there was something on his wife’s mind.

“You should know that I remember.” Fantine informed him and pressed her lips together as she waited for him to react. He blinked.

“Remember what?”

“You. From the 1800’s. I don’t remember you last time or the time before that or the time before that, but—”

“That’s one more than we knew about.” Javert commented and she stopped to stare him down warily.

“‘We’?” She finally asked.

“Um, there’s a good portion of us who can’t die. From the 1800’s. Primarily a group of friends of Marius’s. I’m surprised he hasn’t officially met up with them yet.”

“Marble Liberty?” Fantine suggested and Javert gave a short nod as he watched her work through this. “But, I remember dying and growing up again.”

“Yes. Some are reincarnated while others just wake up the same age and body.” Fantine inhaled sharply as she considered this. “What do you remember from the 1800’s?” Javert cleared his throat and scooted the mashed potatoes around his plate.

“All of it.”

“And have you seen Valjean since then?” Javert had to ask.

“No.” Fantine replied and winced. “What happened to Cosette all those times?” She whimpered and Javert narrowed his eyes.

“Well, in the 1800’s and from what we can tell in the 1940’s, Cosette was taken in by Valjean and married Marius. In 2005, we discovered that Cosette died as a child in a car crash.” Fantine covered her mouth with her hand as she whimpered. Javert didn’t move.

“I had thought she escaped. That they put her in the foster care system or something.”

“She’s safe now, Fantine. That’s all that matters.”

“Why do you care?” Fantine blurted out and Javert flinched. “I mean, last time I saw you, you were determined to throw me in jail regardless of my child.”

“Each time, we start over. We’ve gotten so many chances at this point that we plan to get it all right this time through.”

“This time through?” Fantine repeated.

“There are phases that seem to start with Cosette’s birth. If she remains with you and you live, we have a shot at getting through the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

“The…challenges, I suppose you could call them. You and Cosette keep coming back to be a family all proper and good. Finally, you’ve done that.”

“And Marius?”

“He connects the dots. If he marries Cosette, he’s going to help the rest of us win a revolution of sorts, which allows us all to pass peacefully.”

“To die?” Fantine reworded, staring Javert down with a disgust that churned Javert’s stomach.

“Well, none of us has died in three hundred years. If you could imagine, Fantine, we’re a little tired.”

“Right. Of course.”  She didn’t look convinced.

“Are you angry with me?” Javert asked after a few silent minutes.

“Why would I be?” Fantine asked as she stared at her food from between her fingers.

“For keeping this from you? Or for being cruel to you the first time around.” Javert suggested.

“Like you said, we start over.” She smiled at him carefully and painfully and Javert finally stood, walking around the table to pick Fantine up and hold her in his lap. “As for your keeping this from me…it makes sense. These memories hurt. I don’t want them; I wish I didn’t have them.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Javert whispered in her ear as he rocked her slightly in his arms. “And because I have a chance to say this without you thinking me insane, I’m so dreadfully sorry for my treatment of you all those centuries ago.” He informed her and she gave a sad giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck as she calmed herself down.

"I forgive you, my love."

“Will you tell me something, now?” He asked and Fantine hummed.

“Did you love Valjean?”

“I didn’t know him well enough, Javert.”

“Did he love you?”

“He didn’t know me either.” Fantine pointed out.

“What about Cosette’s father?”

“He was kind for a time. I didn’t realize that he was using me for my body. When I got pregnant, he fled back to his mansion on a hill.” Fantine explained.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Javert asked and Fantine sighed. “What’s his name?” Javert continued when she was silent.

“That’s why I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t want you looking for him. I want him out of our lives—all of our lives—permanently.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll let it go, okay?” He suggested and she gave a small nod. “Why do you remember?”

“What?”

“What triggered your memories?” Javert clarified.

“Cosette.” Fantine cleared her throat. “Cosette and Marius dragged me along to watch a ballet today. And I swear, the girl dancing…she was the girl whose mother took Cosette in way back when.”

“Well, that’s extremely likely.”

“What?”

“It was Eponine, whose parents took in Cosette. Eponine died saving Marius’s life in the 1800’s because she loved him, but he did not love her. Combe—a friend of ours says that she needs to love the one who loves her rather than deal with unrequited love.”

“And has she?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad.” Fantine smiled slightly. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I will die and not come back again, right?”

“Yes.” Javert answered, his voice cracking.

“What about you?”

“Same.” He gave her a smile.

“Why?” She asked and Javert inhaled sharply as he considered telling her.

“I have always lived by justice. This time through, I have shown you mercy and grace. And now, I can die peacefully.” He explained and Fantine grinned at him.

“We’ll live happily ever after, then?” She asked.

“Yes.” Javert answered and felt all tension leave his body as he watched her stare lovingly at him.


	26. Telescopic Camera Nod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras does a private concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor panic attack described.

_"You'll put your eyes to the sun and say,_

_'I know you're only blinding_

_to keep back what the clouds are hiding."_

_-"The Carpal Tunnel of Love" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles, California  
**

“Because if I die, I come back within a few hours. It’s been proven several times that I’m the quickest to revive. But if you die, you don’t come back ever again.” Enjolras informed him as he tried on another shirt.

“I’m not going to die.” Grantaire whined as he stretched across the bed to try to reach Enjolras and ended up falling onto the floor.

“Grantaire. I can’t watch that light in your eyes die again.” Enjolras whispered to him.

“You are the light in my eyes.” Grantaire replied, staring up at him on his back from the floor.

“And you are drunk as all hell.”  Enjolras raised an eyebrow and reached down to help him up. Grantaire grasped for Enjolras’s arm playfully before Enjolras caught it and pulled him up easily as Grantaire squeaked in surprised. “I don’t want to risk it.”

“It’s not about you.”

“I’m aware of that.” Enjolras rolled his eyes, but Grantaire grabbed his shoulders.

“No. You keep focusing on how these things will affect you, but you take no consideration in how they will affect others.”

“Eponine’s not allowed to come either.” Enjolras informed him and Grantaire huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What if we don’t want to sit around here uselessly?”

“Like you said, Grantaire, it’s much bigger than you or me. If you die, everyone is affected.” Enjolras explained and Grantaire moved to take a swing at him, but Enjolras easily slapped his hand away.

“You didn’t even care last time.”

“What?”

“You spent all that time trying to save me so that your precious revolution would happen. But there was no affection for me.”

“You mean during the trial seventy five years ago?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at Grantaire, who huffed. “What, do you remember?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? Why does it matter?” Grantaire yelled and Enjolras sat him down on the bed, giving him a look. Grantaire popped back up and paced over to the window.

“You know why.”

“Because you want me to know all about you.” Grantaire scoffed, sticking his tongue out at Enjolras.

“Well, that is how relationships work.” Enjolras stared him down in confusion.

“I’m coming.”

“No. I need you here.” Enjolras attempted and saw Grantaire’s eyes flicker in interest as Enjolras redirected him to sit down on the bed again.

“What for?” Grantaire flopped backwards.

“Stop Eponine from dying. As well as the boys.” Enjolras explained and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Something tells me they’ll agree with me.”

“Yeah. Well.” Enjolras gave up and threw his jacket over his shoulder as Grantaire began to snore. Enjolras nodded slightly and walked out.

“You got him to stay home?” Eponine skipped to keep up with Enjolras as he stepped into the car.

“Yes, I need you to stay here and watch him.”

“I’m watching the boys.” Eponine crossed her arms over her chest.

“They can stay too.”

“They won’t be very happy.” Eponine raised an eyebrow and Enjolras gave her a wave as he shut his door and Florence drove off.

 “We’re completely sold out.” Florence informed Enjolras as he shoved his mask on.

“Cool. And how do we know who actually likes me?” Enjolras questioned.

“We don’t.” Florence replied and Enjolras sighed.

“You know you don’t have to come, right?” Enjolras asked and Florence shrugged.

“’Course I do. I believe what you’re saying just as much if not more than anyone watching you does.” Florence explained.

“What if the reality is that nobody agrees with me?” Enjolras questioned.

“Somebody has to. There aren’t three hundred people in LA who are equally stupid in their decision to show up somewhere just to kill the singer.”

“Yippee.”

“People care. Otherwise you wouldn’t get this amount of support.” Florence pointed out and Enjolras sighed as he nodded.

“Thanks, Clare.”

“Yeah, Emmel.” Florence responded and Enjolras rolled his eyes, slapping Florence playfully.

At the studio, Enjolras had to go around back to get inside. Chairs were set out all along the front of the studio and were already filling. Inside, Combeferre, Feuilly and Courfeyrac were waiting.

“All covered?” Combeferre patted Enjolras down, pulling on the mask and punching Enjolras’s bulletproof vest.

“Yep.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” Courfeyrac asked.

“‘Are you ready to rock’?” Enjolras suggested and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, ignoring him.

“And what are you going to sing?”

“Just the songs laid out for me by wise old Florence.” Enjolras informed him innocently.

“I think you’re older than me.” Florence commented as he walked by.

“You have no idea.” Enjolras muttered and followed Florence over to the door.

“Ready?” Florence asked, his hand on the doorknob.

“Yes.” Enjolras stared at the door through the slats of the mask.

“Good luck.” Florence watched Enjolras with worry in his eyes.

“Yes. Um, thanks.” Enjolras gave a nod as Florence patted his back and opened the door, allowing Enjolras to step onto the porch, which had become Enjolras’s stage.

Once again, he was hit with the noise seemingly physically. He arched over for a moment before remembering the cheering was happy cheering. Or at least, not entirely murderous. “Hey guys.” He finally spoke and everyone was silent except a single voice cheering that was quickly quieted. “You know, it would be great if we could stop with the violent attempts to get our way. Riots and guns aren’t going to help with anything except making us look more unruly and anarchical. Another thing is I don’t feel like dying today.” That got another cheer and Enjolras gave a small smirk at the irony. “Okay. Rock on.” Enjolras smiled and there was laughter from the crowd as he began playing.

 Everything was going smoothly as Enjolras played through the album. He watched the crowd warily, knowing that Florence, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were doing the same thing from the studio’s cameras. As he watched, he saw two hands waving to him that stuck out amongst the crowd. Luc and Philippe. He tensed and could hear the difference in his voice himself, looking to see Eponine and Grantaire watching as well with smug looks.

Enjolras glared them down, but of course, they didn’t realize. Nobody could see his eyes with the mask he had on. He decided to remain natural. Soon, he noticed Florence and Combeferre in the crowd as well and Enjolras relaxed. They must have seen the group and decided to pull them back into the studio rather than have them even more easily targeted. He lost track of his friends’ presences as he watched people appear around the crowd, simply standing.

Then he made the connection as to why people were slowly streaming out of the crowd. Florence and Combeferre hadn’t noticed Grantaire or Eponine or Luc or Philippe. They had noticed the undercover police officers. Which meant that everyone here was in danger. Including his family.

Enjolras began to panic, but thought fast. At least half of these people knew the lyrics to this song. They were singing along. What if he changed them? Using the same symbolism he used within his songs, he informed the crowd to keep calm though the police were present. As Enjolras watched, a few seemed to catch his drift and began leaving. The police didn’t seem to understand why there were so fewer people present in the crowd now, but began moving into the crowd.

Still, his family was in the crowd, remaining up front. Finally, Enjolras stopped the song and looked Grantaire plain in the eye. It was almost as if Grantaire could see the connection because the man tensed. “Run.” Enjolras demanded and turned to the police. “I’m right here! Come get me! Got to cut off the head of the rebellion. These people will just be martyrs. Their deaths will cause more chaos. Mine can stop all this. Forever.” He shouted and the police moved toward the stage as the crowd dispersed, making the police slower as they fought against the crowd.  

Enjolras placed the guitar behind him and turned, ready to fight. However, just as the police mounted the stage, he was pulled into the studio behind him. The door slammed in the police’s faces and then the yelling began.


	27. Gray Linings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all head home after dealing with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight panic attack.

_"In a world full of the word yes_  
_I'm here to scream  No, No_

 _Wherever I go, go_  
_Trouble seems to follow"_

_-"Save Rock and Roll" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“What the _hell_ were you thinking bringing two young boys into a crowd of—”

“—with all that Enjolras has done for you—”

“—in their right mind provokes the very people trying to kill them?”

“I can protect myself!”

“—realize how many people could’ve been killed?”

 “Maybe Gavroche was right, you have no—”

 “—why I wanted to come to protect—”

“How dare you!”

“—others in danger, as well as yourself.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Enjolras shouted over all of them, shaking slightly as he curled into the fetal position on the floor, breathing roughly. All the voices were silenced as Luc and Philippe moved to sit on top of Enjolras, but he pushed them away, covering his mouth.

Eponine took the boys’ hands and led them into another room. “Come on.” She muttered when they tried to stop her.

Grantaire leaned down to sit with Enjolras, but he too was pushed away as Enjolras forced himself to steady his breathing. Finally, Enjolras relaxed and looked up to Florence with tired eyes. “Are the police still outside?”

“Of course.”

“Surrounded?” Enjolras rubbed his eyes.

“Probably.”

“I’ll get us out then. Have we heard any shots fired?”

“No.”

“And is anyone in here hurt?” Enjolras looked around and everyone shook their heads.

“Are you okay, Enjolras?” Florence asked and Enjolras gave him a gentle smile.

“Minor panic attack. I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Enjolras explained and heard Grantaire snort in amusement.

“I’ve never seen you do that before.” Florence commented and Enjolras just gave him another wincing smile, ignoring Grantaire.

“You shouldn’t have provoked the police.” Grantaire finally snapped and Enjolras looked at him, his eyes turning dangerous.

“ _Get out_.” Enjolras snapped and Grantaire winced away from him before setting his lips.

“I have the right of assembly. Which you’ve thoroughly pointed out today.” Grantaire smirked snottily. Enjolras had stood and made to lunge at Grantaire, but Feuilly held him back as Courfeyrac pulled Grantaire out of the room.

“Enjolras. Leave it for later. We need to focus on getting everyone out of here right now.” Combeferre pointed out and Enjolras gritted his teeth.

“I’m staying here. It’ll be too suspicious if I run as well. And I can distract them.” Florence decided and Enjolras looked at him. “They already know they can’t arrest me for working in the studio in which you also work. You’re not even technically really wanted by police. You’re just wanted out of the way.” Florence scrunched up his nose.

“Thank you, Clarence.” Enjolras placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and Florence shrugged it off, smirking at Enjolras. “The rest of us will have to split up. Combeferre, Feuilly and Courfeyrac take one car, and Eponine and the boys will take the one they came in. I’ll use the roof.”

“You’ll—never mind.” Florence had long given up trying to understand why Enjolras did certain things the way he did.

“Ready?” Enjolras asked and they nodded. “Okay.” Combeferre grabbed Courfeyrac and explained the plan as Enjolras prepared to fight off anyone in the alleyway behind the studio.

As they exited, one officer seemed to run into Enjolras’s fists while the other was punched out by Combeferre, who then massaged his hand. Eponine cleared her throat and Enjolras looked to see her slightly red as she gave him a look in return. Enjolras looked in both directions to the cars to see that they weren’t particularly guarded, but there were officers nearby.

“Okay, act normal and you should be fine.” Enjolras decided and they nodded as he climbed the building with his Patriot mask on. From above, he watched to be sure they were all safe.

Grantaire threw his arm over Eponine’s shoulders while Luc skipped ahead and Philippe held on tight to Eponine’s hand. In the other direction, Combeferre and Courfeyrac walked out with their hands clasped together while Feuilly laughed at them, acting as though he was racing them to the car. As Enjolras watched, there didn’t seem to be any problems. Both cars drove away without issue and Enjolras got closer to the police, listening in on the radio.

He heard nothing that alerted him to any deaths in the area; however, there did appear to be one arrest made at his concert. Groaning, he tracked down the car, jumping from rooftop to the ground and back again as needed. Finally, he reached the car and jumped down from the roof nearby on top of the hood. The car skidded and Enjolras yanked the officer out of the car. After punching him in the face, Enjolras reached over and unlocked the car for the member who was arrested. The woman thanked him and ran as Enjolras pulled the cop down an alleyway and pinned him against the wall.

“I don’t want to hear that you’ve rearrested that woman or that you’ve attempted to find her. Otherwise I will track you down and make your life miserable if not terminated. Do I make myself clear?” Enjolras asked and the officer stared him in the face, spitting at him. However, Enjolras had a mask on so it wasn’t very effective. Instead, Enjolras slammed him against the wall again.

“Yes.” The man finally hissed. Enjolras knocked the man out and then climbed back onto the rooftop. From there, he sighed, listening in on the officer’s radio as it continued to rattle on. It seemed to be listening in on a conversation between Florence and an officer.

“ _You didn’t know which of your coworkers was going to rent out your front lawn?_ ”

“ _Nah. There was money on my desk, so I didn’t question it._ ” Florence replied and Enjolras smirked.

“ _Do you know who Marble Liberty is?_ ”

“ _Funny guy with a mask?_ ” Florence suggested and Enjolras chuckled, glad that Florence was able to hold his own.

 So, he headed home on bruised legs that he began to question the state of. He’d never landed on a police car before from a story above it. His legs probably shouldn’t have endured that contact. He figured he'd work it all out at home. That is, if nobody killed him when he arrived.


	28. Black Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone fights and Enjolras is physically a wreck.

_“I cried tears you'll never see_  
_So fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean_  
_And leave me be”_

_"Save Rock and Roll" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

Enjolras entered the house to hear Eponine’s raised voice grow quieter and more fiercely dangerous. “You cannot tell me that Gavroche was correct in saying that I cannot be a parent when those boys are perfectly fine right now. I had no chance to prove that I can care for them on my own and you said yourself that it didn’t matter because you’d help me. Well guess what, Combeferre? Helping me doesn’t mean jailing me up in your mansion because you think I’m some delicate china doll!” Enjolras wanted no part of that.

However, Eponine emerged from the living room in that exact moment. “Get your ass in there; Combeferre wants to talk to you!” She snapped at him and Enjolras winced as he limped into the living room instead of to the elevator.

Combeferre was bright red, fuming though Enjolras saw the tears in his eyes. Combeferre looked ready to attack, but inhaled sharply and sighed as Enjolras limped over and lay across the couch, moaning. “Let me make this clear to you, Enjolras. I don’t give a crap if you die because you’re being brave. I’ll give you the anesthetic, but if you die because you’re being stupid and reckless, I will let you suffer to death.” Combeferre finished.

“I was redirecting the attention from our family to myself. The police were headed toward them.” Enjolras explained as Combeferre pulled off Enjolras’s pants and Enjolras yelped in surprise.

“What did you do, fall off a building?” Combeferre asked as he stared at Enjolras's bloody knees and Enjolras paused.

“Loosely speaking, yes.” Enjolras responded and Combeferre groaned as he began feeling up Enjolras’s legs. “Ow, ow, _OW_!” Enjolras complained.

“Shut up! You’re the idiot who jumped off a building!” Combeferre snapped and Enjolras moaned, feeling tears fill his eyes as the stinging continued. “ _Merde_ , man. You’re covered in blood.”

“Really, I didn’t notice.” Enjolras whined. His knees and hands were all scratched up and according to Combeferre’s final findings, he had seriously damaged his knees and fractured his left wrist. The scratches would be healed by the end of the day, the fracture by the next and his knees by the end of the next, Enjolras estimated.

“The police weren’t headed toward anyone in particular and they weren’t going to arrest a couple with two kids.”

“They wouldn’t have thought through that connection.” Enjolras muttered.

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Enjolras.” Combeferre barked as he wrapped Enjolras’s hands.

“How’s Ep?” Enjolras changed the subject and immediately regretted it when Combeferre dumped peroxide over his knees. “Ooh, I hate you.” Enjolras winced.

“You don’t go there and I won’t mention the fact that Grantaire wants your head on a plate.”

“You just did.”

“She’s angry at me, but I’m angry at her, so there’s no easy solution right now.”

“Conflict of interest is really messing us all up, huh?” Enjolras questioned and Combeferre sighed as he more gently wrapped Enjolras’s knees.

“I just wanted her safe.”

“Believe me; I’ll be going through the same thing when Grantaire shows up.”

“I probably shouldn’t have brought up Gavroche.”

“Well, she made a very compelling argument.” Enjolras commented.

“Not helping.” Combeferre snapped and stood, moving to leave.

“Wait, Combeferre.” Enjolras called and attempted to sit back up, but his entire body protested. “Carry me?” He begged and Combeferre raised an eyebrow before leaving Enjolras to fend for himself. “Some friend you are, leaving me for the wolves!” Enjolras shouted, but was ignored. He considered going up to bed, but decided that the couch was comfy enough and fell asleep almost immediately.

Still, he was woken soon after that by a pillow in his face. He grunted when he saw Grantaire. “You are an idiot!” Grantaire snapped as Enjolras rubbed his eyes and immediately regretted it when his hands protested.

“So I’ve been told.” Enjolras muttered back and threw his legs down off the couch so that he could attempt to stand. Everything hurt, but his cuts were already scabbed over.

“You told me I couldn’t come and then go out of your way to call attention to yourself and get yourself in trouble again.”

“Only because I didn’t want them near you! So if you had done as I told you, my taunts wouldn’t have been necessary. And frankly, I'm insulted that you don't know my music well enough when I change the lyrics.” Enjolras barked back, attempting to change the subject.

“You’re selfless enough that you would’ve done the same thing with everyone else there.” Enjolras chucked the pillow back at Grantaire, but it practically bounced off of Grantaire and back into Enjolras’s face.

“Thanks, I think?” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wanted you out of harm’s way, Grantaire, and you tried your hardest to get in its way!”

“Maybe I wanted to protect you.”

“Marvelous job you're doing.” Enjolras threw his bandaged hands in the air and Grantaire shook his head.

“You’re three people, Enjolras. I can’t follow them all around.”

“I wasn’t asking you to! I’m asking you to relax and stay put so that you don’t get in the way.” Enjolras managed to stand, testing his knees. It was painful, but more like he had been hit with a baseball bat rather than fallen off a building.

“Oh really? Because you said I was supposed to be your side kick, remember?”

“It was an analogy!”

“An analogy without a meaning? I don’t think you know what that word means.” Grantaire scoffed and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a superhero, Grantaire.”

“That’s not what you were saying a few days ago.”

“I’m a man! A man with a death wish cursed with immortality.” Enjolras stared desperately into Grantaire’s eyes.

“Please. Don’t act like you’ve got it so bad, Double Glory.”

“And double hated.” Enjolras added under his breath. 

“Yeah, you poor thing. You get on people’s nerves because you interrupt their daily lives, so they hate you and now, your feelings are hurt.” Grantaire pretended to pout and Enjolras grabbed the pillow, once again attempting to throw it at Grantaire and once again having him easily block it and toss it back before striding over to Enjolras and pinning him against the wall beneath his body. “You are so self focused that you don’t realize that every single action you take affects all of us!” Enjolras winced at the pain of Grantaire’s weight, his vision blurring.

"Wait, now I'm self focused?"

"You're selfless with other people and selfish with me!"

"What does that mean?"

"You're thoughtless!"

“I am aware of my actions' affects on you all! That’s why I do things-for you!”

“That’s why you put yourself at risk of danger? And I’m not talking about death, Enjolras, because people are cruel and can torture you.” Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’s hands and Enjolras whimpered in pain as tears began streaming down his cheeks.

“Nobody’s going to torture me; they want me dead.” Enjolras hissed.

“You tell us to sit at home, not realizing that we’ll be sitting here worrying about you guys while you attempt to save the world through sing-a-longs. You act like it’s so loving of you to demand that I stay safe when in reality, you’re just stressing me out!”

“At least you’re alive!”

“Did anyone die, Enjolras? I’m sure you checked before you came home.”

“No, but you very well could’ve been the one person because that’s always how it works around me.” Grantaire shifted and Enjolras felt their knees pread harder together.

“You, you, you! It’s all about you!” Enjolras groaned.

“No, it’s about you! I don’t want you to die!”

“About your wants!”

“I am looking out for you, Grantaire. If you don’t want me to, just say the word.”

“I don’t!” They both paused, breathing roughly.

“You’re right. I am selfish in the fact that I can’t just not look out for you. I need you. Can’t you just be glad that my selfishness requires your happiness?” Enjolras shook as Grantaire moved his hands up Enjolras’s arms to his shoulders.

“It’s not happiness when I’m locked up alone.” Grantaire breathed against Enjolras's lips and closed his eyes as Enjolras watched him carefully.

“You weren’t alone and it’s not like I was leaving you here forever.”

“How can I ever know that?” Grantaire asked, looking back up with tears in his eyes.

“Grantaire, I will burn this world down just to see you again. And believe me, you shouldn’t doubt my motivation or ability.” Grantaire sighed and rested his forehead against Enjolras’s collarbone.

“I don’t.”

“Then what is it?” Enjolras placed his shaking hands on Grantaire’s back.

“I doubt good’s ability to conquer evil, Enjolras; we’ve been through this.”

“What can I do to change your mind?”

“Nothing.” Grantaire released the pressure on Enjolras’s knees and Enjolras slumped over, still leaning against Grantaire.

“So what then? Are you going to leave me because I demand that you be happy?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire shook his head.

“No.” He wrapped his arms around Enjolras.

“Are you leaving?” Enjolras whimpered as he felt his feet leave the floor. Grantaire cradled Enjolras in his arms.

“No.”


	29. Hijack the Hype

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras has to get his followers to stop following him.

_"And it's our time now if you want it to be  
Maul the world like the carnival bear set free"_

_-"Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills-Los Angeles, California**

“A cult? What was cultish about singing songs?” Enjolras snapped.

“The singing songs part.” Courfeyrac pointed out as he slurped up the remains of his cereal. Enjolras wrinkled his nose.

“I am not a cult leader.” Enjolras insisted and Courfeyrac shrugged.

“In society’s eyes, it does make sense.” Courfeyrac added and Enjolras glared at him.

“I’m a rebel. Leading a rebellion at worst.” Enjolras concluded and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. From behind them, Eponine cleared her throat, making them both jump.

“‘Anyone having attended the concert yesterday is being called in for questioning by authorities. Attendees are dangerous to approach and civilians are urged to call the police upon suspicion.’” Eponine finished reading from the article on her phone and then looked up to Enjolras.

“Did you hear that they’re calling me dangerous?” Grantaire jumped out from nowhere and plopped down practically on top of Enjolras. “So I was thinking for side kick names, maybe, Yankee. Or Son of Liberty, or Minuteman.”

“Or 'Grantaire’s not entering the line of fire'. They’ve got a warrant on me, dead or alive.” Enjolras pointed out and paused. “Both of me.”

“How’s Florence?” Grantaire changed the subject.

“Really good at playing stupid.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow as he continued watching the news.

“Enjolras, you’re going to want to see this.” Feuilly called from the workroom and Enjolras limped over.

On the computer screen was Enjolras’s website that had released the information regarding the previous day’s concert. Present now was an invitation to a Marble Liberty concert that night. “I didn’t post that.” Enjolras commented and called up Florence, who also denied having posted anything. “Take it off.” Enjolras insisted and Feuilly began tapping away at the computer.

“It’s not working.” Feuilly informed him and Enjolras groaned.

“Then post a message about the previous message being a trap.” Enjolras suggested.

“It’s—Enjolras. It just kicked me off the site.” Feuilly complained as the words, ‘INCORRECT ADMINISTRATOR ID’ blinked on the screen. “Hey, come on now. This is my blog!” Feuilly snapped and continued working on it.

“Do something, Feuilly, please. Shut the site down if needed.” Enjolras begged and Feuilly gritted his teeth as he worked. After a few more minutes, Feuilly managed to hack into his own account and shut down the website.

“There were still quite a few people who saw the post.” Feuilly pointed out and Enjolras groaned.

“I have to go, now.”

“It’s a trap, Enjolras. For you and anyone who follows you.”

“I know, I know.” Enjolras ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about this. “What if the Patriot goes and warns people away?”

“They don’t trust the Patriot. They trust Marble Liberty.”

“So I go as Marble Liberty.”

“No. Marble Liberty has a reward written across his mask.” Feuilly added.

“Wait, where is it?” Enjolras questioned.

“The Crow Bar.” Feuilly answered and Enjolras nodded.

“My voice can’t be shot at.” Enjolras pointed out and Feuilly tilted his head.

 

“Courf’s at the airport with Bahorel and wanted me to inform you that the mask hasn’t come off yet and he’s seen cameras pointed at him.” Eponine announced over the radio several hours later.

“Good.”

"He says the back of the mask is sweaty.” Eponine added.

“It’s also bullet proof.”  Enjolras rolled his eyes as he watched. Other than Courfeyrac and Bahorel, they were all surrounding the Crow Bar with flyers informing people of the trap being set. Combeferre had asked Javert for pictures of all the cops within the area—

“Hey, Javert? What does an undercover cop look like?” Combeferre asked as they drove and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Yeah, names of all the cops in 7th Street division will work…So I can look them up…So I can avoid them…Thank you.”

—so that Enjolras, as the Patriot, could keep an eye out for them from the roof of the Crow Bar.

“How you holding up, Enjolras?” Combeferre called through the radio.

“Fine.”

“And your knees?”

“Fine.”

“I still think I should’ve gone instead of Courfeyrac. I’m more your body type.” Feuilly commented.

“Guys, the radios are for emergencies. Anyway, if Courf’s found impersonating Marble Liberty, he’ll be set free because he’s a famous actor. Feuilly, you’re not famous.” Enjolras reminded them and Feuilly muttered something about Enjolras not being famous.

They were an hour early to be sure that they got everyone away as soon as possible, so they were primarily watching as undercover cops strolled by, suspiciously but resignedly. “I have news coverage of Marble Liberty at the airport ten minutes ago.” Grantaire informed them and Enjolras smiled.

“Good. Hopefully everyone sees that.” Enjolras responded.

“Hopefully Courfeyrac doesn’t blow it.” Eponine added.

“Angé, you have a gun, right?” Combeferre asked a little while later and Enjolras hurried over to his side of the roof and looked down to see Combeferre staring at an undercover officer who had his hand inside his bulky jacket.

“I don’t plan to use it.” Enjolras commented.

“Just making sure.” Combeferre answered.

“The police are coming dressed as security guards for the event.” Grantaire informed them. He and Eponine were sitting in a car nearby listening to a police scanner and watching the news.

“They’re going to kick you guys out of the area.” Added Eponine.

“Stand outside their circumference. If that becomes a problem, go inside and continue passing out flyers. I never charge so money won't be a problem. I’ll wait here.” Enjolras instructed. As Enjolras guessed, the police didn’t allow them to stand outside their borders, so they headed in. Enjolras watched as Combeferre stared down a police officer as he passed her as snottily as possible.

“Courf’s caught.” Eponine informed them and Enjolras cursed.

“It hasn’t even started yet.” Enjolras remarked.

“Enjolras, these people aren’t taking us seriously.” Combeferre added and Enjolras thought this through.

“Try the recording.” Enjolras suggested and Combeferre pulled out a speaker inside. They had recorded Enjolras’s voice telling people that the situation was a trap. However, people seemed primarily interested in the way a random person’s voice so easily matched Marble Liberty’s.

“Try yelling ‘fire’.” Enjolras suggested.

“That’s illegal and people will get hurt.” Joly protested.

“Hurt is better than arrested.”

“Arrested is better than dead.” Joly added. “For normal people.”

“I’m coming.” Enjolras decided.

“Enjolras, so help me, you stay on that roof.” Grantaire barked.

“I have my mask.”

“I will not give you the anesthetic.” Combeferre added.

“Then I guess I’ll suffer.” Enjolras hopped down off the roof and ran into the building wearing the mask. He bolted onto the stage and grabbed everyone’s attention, waving his arms in the air.

“This is a trap! Run!” He shouted and a bullet hit him square in the heart.


	30. A Birth and a Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis create a new barricade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death

_"You'll find your way_  
_And may death find you alive_

_Take me down the line_

_In Gem City we turn the tide"_

_-"Uma Thurman" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“Why isn’t he wearing a bullet proof vest?” Combeferre shouted over the radio as they all streamed toward the stage, against the movement of the fleeing crowd.

“He gave it to Courf.” Feuilly answered.

“Guys, what happened?” Grantaire asked.

“Feuilly, guard the front door as soon as everyone’s out. Get the police out too.” Combeferre instructed over the radio. “The rest of you, help get people out of here. I’ve got ML.” Combeferre reached the stage and immediately began ripping the shirt off Enjolras. The bullet wound was fatal.

“Guys, please, what happened?” Grantaire begged.

“Get your ass in here.” Combeferre grumbled and saw Enjolras objecting.

“No! No…” Enjolras insisted and Combeferre just glared back at him, but took out the needle, pumping Enjolras full of anesthetics.

“Feuilly, what are you doing?” Musichetta asked when Feuilly knocked out an undercover cop and pulled him into the center of the room.  

“Hostage. Otherwise, they’ll storm in here.”

“We can’t have someone else knowing about Enjolras.” Grantaire added, but was ignored. Once everyone was out and the doors had been barred shut, Combeferre removed Enjolras’s mask.

“Stay by the doors.” Combeferre demanded them all except Grantaire, who rushed forward, completely ignoring Combeferre.

 “He’s dying.” Grantaire whispered.

“He’ll be fine.” Combeferre grumbled and sat down beside Enjolras, beginning to work on removing the bullet from his heart.

“What are you doing?” Grantaire whimpered, clasping Enjolras’s hand tightly.

“Removing the bullet to speed up the healing process.”

 “How long, Combeferre?” Grantaire asked.

“Three hours.”

“How can you be sure?”

“First time, it was twelve hours, next it was nine, next it was six, this time, three.” Combeferre determined.

 “Is he gone yet?” Grantaire sobbed.

“He’s been gone ever since I put my forceps in his heart.” Combeferre snapped and Grantaire whimpered, hugging Enjolras’s arm.

“Why are you so sure he’ll come back?” Grantaire continued and Combeferre sighed after throwing the bloodied bullet in the trash.

“He can’t die. That can’t be his end. He has to die of old age.” Combeferre explained and changed the subject. “How’re the twins?”

“I haven’t heard from them. I’m assuming they’re doing well with Jehan, though.” Eponine answered.

“And Courfeyrac and Bahorel?”

“Courf just texted me. He says he’s coming around back.” Eponine informed him and Combeferre nodded, standing by the back door and waiting until the door was banged against. He opened it and then punched the police man trying to make his way in as well before slamming the door shut again.

“What happened?” Courfeyrac asked, looking around and hugging Combeferre, seemingly out of habit because he recoiled pretty quickly.

“Enjolras died.” Combeferre shrugged, not having pushed Courfeyrac away. “And you?”

“I told them I had a face condition, but they managed to take the mask off.” Courfeyrac shrugged and Bahorel began laughing.

“Actually he yelled, ‘You are stripping me down in public and I demand a lawyer before being touched! Perverts! Perverts!’” Bahorel demonstrated and fell on the floor, laughing hysterically.

“And a whole lot of good you did. You didn’t even help. He just stood there laughing while they frisked me.” Courfeyrac explained and looked around. “Who’s that?” He asked and they looked to see that their hostage had woken. Feuilly had already placed the man’s handcuffs on him, so he wasn’t escaping or attacking.

“Our hostage.” Feuilly replied and the man just watched them, silently.

Then, the phone began ringing. They all looked around at each other. “Negotiation call?” Musichetta suggested.

Combeferre strode over and picked up the phone. “Yes?” He asked. “He will remain unharmed as long as you guys stay out.” With that, he slammed the phone back down and turned toward the doors. “I think they think we have guns or explosives or something." He informed everyone.

“How many guns do we have?” Feuilly asked and they looked around. Including Enjolras’s, Musichetta’s, Feuilly’s and then Eponine’s knife, they had four weapons. Looking in the back room, they found a shotgun and Bahorel squealed with delight. They all stared in terror as he grabbed it and approached the window, waving it in the officers’ faces and making obscene gestures. Combeferre shrugged, pressing his lips together when his friends looked to him for assistance. When Bahorel turned around, he smiled.

“I bet it worked.” He commented. And he was right; the doors weren’t touched though the phone rang off the hook.

A while later, Grantaire sat up and began tidying Enjolras, cleaning his shirt as best as he could, cleaning Enjolras of blood, fixing Enjolras’s hair, buttoning the shirt back up and so on. Finally, he stood and walked over to where Feuilly was keeping guard.

“If each time he dies, there’s three less hours before he wakes back up, how do you know it’s not counting down? Like, if he dies again after this, how can you be sure he’s not gone for good?”

“Javert tried it.” Feuilly answered. “The first time he died, it took five hours for him to wake up. The next time, a four, the next time three, the next time, two, then one. And the time after that, a minute. And again, a minute. After this, Enjolras gets a minute every time.”

“He’ll probably be happy about that.” Grantaire commented and Feuilly raised an eyebrow.

“I was surprised to see Combeferre give him the anesthetic.” Feuilly commented and Grantaire looked at him in confusion. “He was quite adamant about teaching Enjolras a lesson this time.”  

 An hour later, all was silent, but that silence was broken by Grantaire’s voice. “Where’s Enjolras?” Grantaire asked and they all looked to the stage to see nothing but the bloodstain remaining. Grantaire looked around furiously, but he was stopped when Enjolras stood up from behind the bar.

“Relax. I just needed a drink.”


	31. Bottled Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras wakes up and beats up bad guys.

_"Put on your war paint_

_You are a brick tied to me that's dragging me down_

_Strike a match and I'll burn you to the ground_

_We are the jack-o-lanterns in July setting fire to the sky_

_Here comes this rising tide, so come on"_

_-"The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“Enjolras, we need to leave.” Feuilly reminded him.

“We need to stop those idiots from killing innocent people.” Enjolras responded, throwing back another shot.

“Okay, but we need to get to safety first.” Feuilly pointed out, and Enjolras glared around the room as he considered this and sighed.

“You were dead.” The hostage finally spoke and Enjolras turned to look at him and then to Feuilly in confusion.

“Hostage.” Feuilly commented and Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him.

“And now that he knows I’m a dead man come to life?” Enjolras asked.

“Nobody will believe him. If he does say something, he’ll be thrown into a psychiatric ward.” Joly pointed out and Enjolras nodded, smirking down at the man, who had closed his eyes as he shook.

“Well, I’ll be on the roof, then.”

“Doing what?” Combeferre asked.

“Distracting them.” Enjolras gave a cruel smirk and Grantaire shook as chills ran down his back at the sight of Enjolras’s face.

“You won’t win.” The hostage spoke up again and Enjolras strode over to the man and knelt down in front of him.

“You think they can stop me? Death couldn’t stop me. And now, I’m going to burn down every fool who gets in my way.” Enjolras snapped.

Enjolras burst through the back door and punched out the guards. “Go.” He informed his friends and they all rushed out. Grantaire waited for Enjolras, but then watched as he jumped up the side of the building. Grantaire rolled his eyes and followed Feuilly.

Enjolras stood up on top of the building and looked down at the policemen. He didn’t have any weapons on him, but it didn’t take long for them to notice him anyway. “Come down with your hands up.” A policeman shouted back through a megaphone.

“Not until you let all of the people you tricked go.” Enjolras responded.

“We don’t make deals with criminals.”

“Neither do I.” Enjolras muttered to himself.

“Marble Liberty has to be losing a lot of blood. You should tell them to come out so we can help.” Megaphone man replied and Enjolras laughed cruelly.

“You’ve killed Marble Liberty; so now, you’re stuck with the Patriot.” He responded and there was silence. “You’ll find your man inside, perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Enjolras stepped away from the edge of the building and hopped onto the wall of the building beside it. He climbed the wall and then ran from roof to roof before landing on the ground without a mask on. From there, he casually walked to the police station.

Inside, Enjolras looked around. There was no clear way to tell if there were other people detained from the front of the station. He began loudly singing one of his songs off key. “Sir, you need to leave the premises.” An officer approached him, but Enjolras pushed him away and continued wandering around like a drunkard. He punched the next officer who approached him and the others jumped to action.

“Put him in the back with the others.” Someone demanded, and Enjolras was cuffed and carted deeper into the station. When he was behind the first set of bars, a guard took out the key to undo the cuffs. Once they were off, Enjolras knocked him out and fought the others present until they, too, were down.

Enjolras jingled around with the keys until one of the inmates called, “The button on the wall, idiot.” Enjolras turned and pressed the button that opened all the cells and set off an alarm.

“Nice.” Enjolras commented and turned to the prisoners as he pulled out his mask. “Let’s go.”

“The Patriot?” He heard some voices muttering as he used the keys to unlock the door that he had passed through earlier.

As they exited, Enjolras beat down every guard that came to subdue them with the occasional assistance from one of the prisoners behind him. When they reached the front door, Enjolras knocked out a prisoner who had approached an officer with a knife and threw him back toward the cells. Enjolras took the knife and ran for the front door, but everything was locked.

Enjolras cursed, shaking the doors and then attempting to use his body weight to open them, but nothing worked. “I’ve got it.” A voice called from behind him and he turned to see a girl with a gun in her hand shoot at the lock. Enjolras nodded his thanks to her and she grinned back before rushing out of the building.

As they emerged from the station, Enjolras saw Combeferre parked out front. He jumped into the car and they sped away. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“That statement has been said way too often to me in the past week. Yes, I am aware.”

“How many druggies or killers did you let loose with the rest of them?” Combeferre asked.

“Hopefully enough to sidetrack the police from looking for us.” Enjolras determined and Combeferre shook his head in disbelief.

“We’re being pursued.” Combeferre informed Enjolras, who sighed and pulled a gun out of the car door pocket. “Dude, how long has that been there?” Combeferre questioned.

“Keep driving.” Enjolras decided and opened the door, tucking and rolling out of the car. He landed on his feet and immediately ran toward a building, jumping up the side and reaching the roof. He looked down as the police cars stopped out front and officers stepped out with guns aimed at him. He dodged the bullets and then felt his phone buzz.

Enjolras frowned and pulled it out to see a text from Grantaire, “ _get ur ass home now_ ”. Enjolras pressed his lips together and sighed, heading home rather than further provoking the police.


	32. Oath of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor panic attack.

_"This has been said so many times_  
_That I'm not sure if it matters_  
 _But we never stood a chance_  
 _And I'm not sure if it matters"_

_-"Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles-Beverly Hills, California**

“Wow.” Marius commented as they watched TV. On the screen was the announcement that Marble Liberty was assumed dead and that the Patriot was the supposed killer.

“I don’t believe it.” Cosette commented, her eyebrows furrowed together.

“What do you think happened?”

“The Patriot wouldn’t shoot someone on his side.” Cosette replied with tears in her eyes and Marius blinked, surprised that the death of this man had affected her so.

“He would if there were other issues at hand.” Marius suggested.

“The police must have done it. They’ve been announcing that they want him dead for weeks however subtly.”

“Well, they outright said it yesterday.” Marius muttered.

“I want to help.” Cosette decided and Marius furrowed his eyebrows together. “Baba knows Marble Liberty. He can tell us where he is and we’ll see if he’s really dead.”

“Cosette, it’s dangerous.”

“Life is dangerous, Marius. I’m done singing about tragedies of the rich. I’m done not doing anything.” Cosette informed him and Marius pressed his lips together. In that moment, Javert entered, collapsing onto the couch. “Baba, is Marble Liberty really dead?” Cosette asked him with wet eyes and Javert looked from her to Marius and back. It would be so much easier if he lied. She wouldn’t get involved and she’d get married and be happy. But if she found out that he was lying, everything would be complicated.

“No.” Javert answered and Cosette squealed as Marius sighed.

“Marius, let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” Javert asked, rubbing his eyes.

“To help Marble Liberty.”

 _

“Where’s Combeferre?” Eponine asked him when he entered and Enjolras looked around.

“He drove ahead of me.” Enjolras commented and Eponine cursed. Luc and Philippe covered their ears simultaneously. “I’ll go get him.” Enjolras grumbled and Grantaire took his arm.

“Wait, let’s think about this.”

“He can’t. Combeferre’s like eighty percent of his impulse control.” Courfeyrac muttered as he walked by with a first aid kit.

“Who’s hurt?” Enjolras jumped to attention, following Courfeyrac into the living room where the family minus Combeferre was sitting. Bossuet had a gash in his arm and Enjolras winced, watching as Joly sat a few feet away, shaking as he stared. Jehan was petting him. “Are you okay?” Enjolras asked Bossuet, who smirked as he nodded.

“Just a scrape.” He commented as Feuilly began stitching him back up with Courfeyrac's help. The only doctor present was currently indisposed, but between Courfeyrac and Feuilly, there was enough experience with wounds to be able to stitch one up.

“He fell onto a fence when we were getting into the car.” Musichetta informed Enjolras.

"You look like a zombie. How'd you get anywhere like that?" Bossuet changed the subject and Enjolras frowned as he looked down to his bloody shirt. Then he looked over to Joly.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Enjolras informed his friend and wrapped his arms around him. “Just a clumsy mistake. Bossuet's used to it, right? A cut. Okay?” Enjolras asked as Joly hid his face in Enjolras’s chest.

“I’m okay, Joly, love.” Bossuet added and Musichetta stepped over, holding her arms out to hug Joly.

Enjolras turned and faced Eponine and Grantaire. “We have to save him.”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire started.

“We need to shut down this whole system. It’s ridiculous.” Enjolras added.

“And how are you going to do that, Enjolras? Build a barricade down in West LA?” Grantaire snapped and Enjolras winced, turning to look at Grantaire. “Calm down and think.” 

“I want to kill Luego.” Enjolras decided and Grantaire rolled his eyes, grabbing Enjolras’s arm and carting him back into the hallway. Grantaire took Enjolras’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him, but Enjolras just fumbled about.

“You just died and scared me to death. Now, kiss me.” Grantaire breathed against Enjolras’s lips and Enjolras’s eyes opened long enough to see the tears in Grantaire’s. Sighing, Enjolras pulled Grantaire closer by the belt loops of his jeans and kissed him thoroughly.

“Now. I want you to go back in there and think logically about what steps we need to take to continue your mad dreams.” Grantaire demanded.

“Did you pull me out here just to kiss me in private?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire turned red.

"And to make you focus." Grantaire defended.

"But now I'm distracted." Enjolras teased and kissed him again.

“If we do this, we have to do it slowly.” Feuilly pointed out when Enjolras reentered the room.

“I know, let’s get going.” Enjolras replied and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes as Feuilly watched Enjolras blankly.

“This is going to be profoundly difficult for you, mon amour.” Grantaire hugged Enjolras’s arm, but Enjolras pulled away.

“Look, while you guys sit here making jokes, there are people dying that we alone can save.”

“You alone can save.” Courfeyrac added and Enjolras looked to him in confusion. “You have to lead this rebellion, Enjolras. I say keep it together so we can get going like you said.”

“Let’s kill the president first.”

“No. That would make him a martyr.” Courfeyrac reminded him. “What we need to do is destroy him. Musichetta will present the truth on Hollywood Live. People begin revolting, then you can kill the king. I mean, the president.”

“I don’t want anyone else involved in this mess.” Enjolras commented and Courfeyrac shook his head.

“That’s not how it works, Enjolras. If you’re telling people what to do, you’re just as bad as Luego.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not allowed to give them my life story either, but that doesn’t make me a politician.” Enjolras grumbled and Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow as he considered this.

“Enjolras, you realize that you are twice a politician, right?” Eponine pointed out and he narrowed his eyes at her. “The Patriot kills bad politicians. Marble Liberty debated the president on live television.”

"Killing politicians makes me a politician? What is the world coming to?" Enjolras glared and she rolled her eyes.

“I want to help.” Jehan announced, calling attention to himself for the first time. He was sitting in front of the empty fireplace with Luc and Philippe, playing with hotbox cars.

“That wouldn’t be safe, Jehan.” Grantaire informed him delicately.

“I want to help.” Jehan repeated, looking from Grantaire to Enjolras, whose eyes flickered away. But then Enjolras inhaled sharply.

“He needs to.” Enjolras informed them and they all looked at him, wide eyed and exasperated. “He’s coming back every time around too.”

“Except 1940.” Jehan shook his head. “I have no memories from 1940.”

“We can interview him on Hollywood Live.” Musichetta offered and Enjolras grinned, turning to see Jehan with a content smile as well as he turned back to playing with the boys.

“Hello?” A voice called from the hallway and Enjolras jumped up to see Cosette and Marius peering in through the open door. That he had forgotten to close. 

“Hey guys, come on in.” Enjolras waved them in and Cosette squeezed Enjolras in a hug that caused him to choke.

“She thought you were dead.” Marius informed him.

“I’m not.” Enjolras responded shakily as she pulled away and looked him over.

“Why haven’t you changed?” She asked and Enjolras looked down to see he was still covered in his own dried blood.

“I’ll go do that.” He decided and headed up the stairs as the couple entered the living room. When he reemerged downstairs, they explained that they wanted to help and Enjolras just stared, looking from Cosette to Marius and then to Musichetta, who had grown to love little Cosette.

“Why?” Enjolras asked them, remembering that Marius never truly agreed with them.

“Because, this time around, you have a chance at winning the revolution.” Marius commented.


	33. Mascot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre is interrogated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threats of torture.

_"Oh no, we won't go  
'Cause we don't know when to quit, no, no"_

_-"Save Rock and Roll" by Fall Out Boy_

**Unknown Location, California** **(assumed)** **, 2080**

Combeferre was sat down roughly in a chair, surprised at how accurate movies were in regards to government conspiracies. Then again, movie stars were the people who captured him, so movies must be all that they knew. The paper bag was ripped off his face and Combeferre blinked, wondering if it had given him paper cuts. His eyes took time to adjust to the light in the room, which took slightly longer than normal without his glasses. They had fallen off when they crashed into his car. From what he could tell, the crash had broken his arm and the way he was tied up right now was not helping it heal correctly. He winced at the idea of having to rebreak his own arm to allow it to heal properly.  

“Combeferre.” A voice called and finally Combeferre managed to focus on the face sitting across from him. He had a police uniform on.

“I want a lawyer.” Combeferre responded.

“You’re in no place to be demanding things.”

“I didn’t demand. I requested. And I know my rights.”

“Your rights mean nothing here.” The man responded and Combeferre gulped. "We know you are in league with the man known as Patriot."

"Do you, now?" Combeferre asked and wriggled slightly. “I’m sorry, but my arm’s broken. Can you please have me untied and allow me to have my arms rest in front of me?”

“This is an interrogation. You’re not supposed to be comfortable.” The man gave Combeferre a look and Combeferre smirked back.

“Good luck getting information out of me through discomfort. I’ve been through hell and back before.” He informed the man, who stared back for a good minute. Combeferre didn’t drop his challenging gaze. Finally, the man motioned with his hand and the cuffs were removed from Combeferre’s arms. He gasped as they pulled his arms in front of him and recuffed him.

"We will pay a significant amount of money if you tell us who or where the Patriot is." The man continued as if nothing happened though Combeferre’s face was slightly paler.

"And if you knew anything about the Patriot, you would know that we're not after money."

“We know that he isn’t. Are you?” The man gave Combeferre a knowing glance and Combeferre raised his eyebrows, knowing that this man knew nothing he thought he knew.

“Nah.” Combeferre shrugged, but the man didn’t skip a beat.

"Who is the Patriot?" He leaned into the table and Combeferre stared back blankly for a few moments. Finally, he sighed.

"A character you made up to connect a string of deaths and robberies so that people will have something amusing to watch while people are being murdered." Combeferre responded.

"Help us solve these murders."

"No." Combeferre replied and smiled. "Those who even try to assist you become your servants and I will never lower myself to that level."

"We have the power to lower you anyway."

"Through two ways." Combeferre finished for him and the man stared for a moment.

"Yes."

"And what are they?" Combeferre asked, feeling like a teacher in front of a difficult child.

"You tell me."

"Oh no, that would be cheating." Combeferre gave the man a pleasant smile.  

"We can take everything away from you and demonstrate your faults through the media."

"I'm in connection with whom now?" Combeferre smirked. "Just you try."

“How was the Patriot injured?” The man changed the subject.

“I don’t know. Ask him.” Combeferre decided that it was easier to play stupid and mute than lie.

“What is the Patriot’s connection to Marble Liberty?”

“None. Liberty’s dead.” Combeferre smiled at his own entendre.

“When Marble Liberty was alive, what was his connection to the Patriot?” The man stopped himself from punching the table between them and Combeferre leaned forward, enjoying this.

“Seeing as I am neither of these people and you have yet to prove that I know either of them, I have no answer for you.” Combeferre replied and a door opened to show a woman motioning the man out of the room. He was followed by another man who Combeferre assumed had been standing behind him.  

Combeferre glanced around the room that was now empty. He saw the mirror and wondered if it really was a one way window like they showed in the movies. Through the mirror, Combeferre realized that he had a gash across his cheek. His heart pounded as he wondered how much it had healed in front of these people’s very eyes. At least the blood would dry and appear to clot since they weren't bothering to help him out of his pain in any way.

Eventually, Combeferre lay his head down on the table in front of him, closing his eyes as he waited to be revisited. Then the woman from before entered and sat across from him. “Are you the good cop? Because he wasn’t a very bad cop.” Combeferre commented and the woman ignored him, placing a knife on the table in front of her.

 “We know that you are Combeferre. We know that you have no real birth record or real record of citizenship." Combeferre chuckled. They were real, but they were also dated back to the eighteenth century. "However, you are a doctor. We know that you were present at the Crow Bar when Marble Liberty was shot by the Patriot and later, died. We know that you were the man who tried to nurse Liberty back to health.” Combeferre smiled at the woman’s unintentional entendre, but didn’t speak. He had been through enough in life to know that she wanted him to point out that the Patriot didn’t kill Marble Liberty. He had also been through enough not to care. “We know that you are also connected to the Patriot because you were driving away from the police station with him and because you admitted it here today. You stated that both of you weren’t interested in money.”

“‘Neither of you.’” Combeferre corrected. “Negative structure.” The woman ignored him.

“What do you know of the Patriot and Marble Liberty’s relationship?”

“Nothing.”

“Lying to an officer is a federal offense.” The woman looked up at him from under her eyebrows and Combeferre rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“Don’t get me started. Do you know how many penal codes you’re breaking right now?”

“Where is Marble Liberty? He was last seen with you.” Combeferre had to laugh at this. If only she knew. “We will use force if necessary.” She added, touching the knife in front of her. Combeferre sighed. The worst he could experience was pain and that was what she was threatening him with.


	34. Making Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel, Luc and Philippe distract the guards while Musichetta, Grantaire and Enjolras gather information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioned racism, implied character death

_"We are salt, you are the wound_  
_empty another bottle_ _and let me tear you to pieces_  
_this is me wishing you_ _into the worst situations_  
_I'm the kind of kid_ _that can't let anything go…_

 _And did you hear the news?_  
_I could dissect you_ _and gut you on this stage_  
_not as eloquent as I may have imagined_  
_but it will get the job done, you're done_  
_every line is plotted and designed_ _to leave you"_

_-"My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Hollywood, California**

“Ooohh.” Luc and Philippe entered the President’s House, which had been called the Black House and before that was called the White House. Then people realized how stupid they were for thinking that the color of the house was making the house and its members racist. Still, it was purple now to be sure that nobody was offended.

“Excuse me, who are you two?” A lady asked from the front desk. She had waved off the two guards who stood beside her. After all, what could two children do to hurt her?

“We’re looking for our uncle.” Luc informed her.

“Yeah, he’s scary.” Philippe added, talking more to the room than to the lady.

“And big.” Luc continued.

“And slightly drunk.” Finally, Philippe looked at the lady with innocent eyes.

“But he came in here, so we followed.” Luc shrugged.

“Well, I can assure you that no big, scary, drunk uncle entered this building.” She promised them condescendingly and Luc narrowed his eyes as Philippe rolled his.

“Look, lady. We just wanna find our uncle and we’ll get out of your hair.” Philippe informed her.

“He’s not here, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She remarked.

“Why do people say that? ‘Ask you to leave’. Clearly, you’re demanding that we leave.” Luc commented, looking down at his feet as if pouting. The two guards stepped forward and Luc fell onto the floor, suddenly sobbing. Philippe sprinted back down the hall as far as he could go.

Around back, Bahorel waltzed up to the back door with a hard hat on. He knocked out two guards and felt a bullet ricochet off the hat. He looked up to wherever the snipers were and gave them a thumbs up before knocking out the rest of the guards that approached him.

Once he got inside, Bahorel steam rolled through every guard and employee in his way. When he found Philippe, he grabbed him like a football and began knocking down everyone in his way on his way to the front entrance of the building. When Luc saw them, he skipped off to follow. 

Meanwhile, Enjolras landed on the roof of the building. He looked around and saw that the snipers hadn’t noticed him climbing the building in the dark. He carted Musichetta and Grantaire up the side of the building by a rope, grunting under their weight combined with gravity.

“Do you work out?” Grantaire asked in his best valley voice when he had reached the top. Enjolras grumbled at him, but Grantaire just kissed his cheek and continued onto the roof, looking around.

“What now?” Musichetta asked and Enjolras leaned down, opening a hatch that wouldn’t have been noticed by the common passerby. “Why do you know where that is?”

“I may have done this before.” Enjolras responded, pressing his lips together as he jumped down into the building. They appeared to be in a kind of an attic. “Look through those boxes. They’re labeled.”

“What year do we want?” Grantaire asked, flashing his phone’s flashlight on them.

“This year. And the last, I suppose, if we have time.” Enjolras determined and opened a door slightly to look through the crack. “I’m going to go check the office.” He informed them.

“I’m coming.” Grantaire responded and Enjolras gave him a look.

“Stay with Musichetta.”

“I know how to do my job, Enjolras.” Musichetta answered in exasperation. “You may need some refocusing though.”

“You think that’s a good job for my boyfriend?” Enjolras muttered and Grantaire clasped his hand with a determined expression. Enjolras rolled his eyes and led Grantaire down the hall and a set of stairs to an office.

Inside, Grantaire sighed. The desk was piled with papers and there were two file cabinets that were bursting. “Stay here.” Enjolras instructed Grantaire.

“Where are you going?”

“To check something.” Enjolras answered as he opened the door, but Grantaire reached out and stopped him, holding out his hand.

“Gun.” He demanded and Enjolras gave him a look.

“You have your own.” He snapped and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“You cannot kill the president and give Musichetta information that only the president has. It will look extremely bad for her.” Grantaire growled.

“Not if she says that she trusts the Patriot’s information.” Enjolras whispered back and Grantaire glared dangerously.

“Don’t you dare.” Grantaire barked back and Enjolras stopped to look at him with worry in his eyes, but then turned continuing on his way to the president’s bedroom. Grantaire breathed roughly and tried to focus on looking through the papers on the desk, but gave up and began shoving them into his bag. Then he heard the gunshot.

Daringly, Grantaire peeked out the door to see a masked Enjolras punching guards. Grantaire gritted his teeth as he emerged and glared at Enjolras, who motioned for him to go back to Musichetta. “Go home.” He shouted and Grantaire rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

Musichetta was directly outside the attic door when Grantaire returned. “Go.” Grantaire growled, forcing her back into the room and following her.

“What’s going on? Where’s Enjolras?”

“Assassinating the president.” Grantaire grumbled and pulled a ladder over to the hatch, using it to climb out. “You got everything?” He asked Musichetta as he helped her out and she gave a slight nod.

Luc and Philippe were waiting in the car when Musichetta and Grantaire jumped in. “What about Enjolras?” Bahorel asked as he climbed in and Grantaire began to drive.

“He said to leave him.” Grantaire replied.

“And you’re not broken up about that?” Bahorel asked.

“He can take care of himself.” Grantaire decided. “We all good?” He asked and got positive answers from the boys. However, when they reached the edge of the property, Enjolras was there, waiting, covered in blood once again. Grantaire considered not stopping, but rolled his eyes and waited for him to hop in.

“How will I get any of this information public now?” Musichetta asked quietly.

“You can say that you trust your source. Who is the Patriot.” Enjolras determined and Musichetta didn’t argue, but looked out the window.

Enjolras looked to Grantaire, sensing the tension emanating off him. “You understand why I—”

“We’re not talking about this right now.” Grantaire cut him off and Enjolras was silent as commanded.


	35. Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis save Combeferre and the information Combeferre concocted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drugging, implied torture, and PTSD.

_"And all my thoughts of you_  
_They could heat or cool the room_  
_And no, don't tell me you're crying_  
_Oh, honey, you don't have to lie"_

_-"Fourth of July" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Los Angeles, California**

“Come here often?” Bossuet asked the woman beside him and she raised an eyebrow in surprise before giving him a small smile.

“No, actually.”

“Me neither.” Bossuet shrugged and threw back a shot. “Will you now?”

“Buy me a drink and we’ll see.” She commented and Bossuet smiled back.

-

A few miles away, Courfeyrac and Eponine entered the office building with their fake maintenance IDs. Courfeyrac waved to the other maintenance workers while Eponine walked with purpose toward their goal.

She knocked on the door of the security room and a large man answered. “Hi, we’re here to clean up the office.” She informed him and he grunted, moving aside so they could enter. Courfeyrac pulled the duster out of his bag, but Eponine was a step ahead of him, punching the security man. He looked surprised and attempted to tackle her, but Courfeyrac banged him over the head with a chair that broke. The man fell to the floor as the other security man approached Eponine, who roundhouse kicked him in the face. He was downed much more easily.

“Did you kill him?” Eponine asked Courfeyrac, who looked for the large man’s pulse and shrugged when he couldn’t find it under the man’s many chins.

“Let’s just get going.” Courfeyrac decided and Eponine squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Hey, you okay?” He asked her, already hacking into one of the computers’ mainframes.

“Fine.” She replied and began to help.

“There he is.” Courfeyrac found the video of Combeferre’s interrogation and dragged it onto the USB. It began to copy across and Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. “That was easy.”

“Do you still love him?” Eponine asked and Courfeyrac gave her a look.

“I am not having this conversation with my ex’s new girlfriend.”

“Well, I seem to be his ex right now, too.” Eponine pouted.

“You guys can get through one little fight.”

“You didn’t.” Eponine snapped back and Courfeyrac winced, looking away.

“That’s because he didn’t like anyone back then.”

“You think he likes people now?” Eponine asked and Courfeyrac pressed his lips together.

“I think he likes you now.” He answered and she sighed.

“But not you?”

“What do you want me to say, Ep? He says he likes me, that he loves me even. Just not in the way I love him.” Courfeyrac barked and Eponine gulped.

“Can I apologize for my tactlessness ahead of time and ask why you think he broke up with you?” Eponine asked and Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at her.

“Because I’m clingy. And he’s serious.” Courfeyrac replied and Eponine nodded.

“I’m sorry.” She reiterated and Courfeyrac grunted, but otherwise ignored her, wishing that they could talk about anything—dead puppies, even—other than this.

Suddenly, she yelped and jumped back from the computer screen, the chair rolling away as she collapsed in on herself. Courfeyrac jumped up to help, but couldn’t see what had scared her. Until he looked to the screen to see Combeferre silently screaming as a finger was chopped off.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Courfeyrac rubbed her shoulder and she slowly managed to calm down, grabbing his hand and counting his fingers silently.

“I’m sorry.” Eponine finally muttered out.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel.” Courfeyrac replied and she looked up to him with tears in her eyes before blinking and turning back to the screen.

“Okay. Let’s go.” She decided when she saw that the video was done copying. She pulled out the USB and they were on their way.

-

Bossuet emerged from the apartment and smiled at Joly, kissing his forehead. “Did you sleep with her?” Joly pouted and Bossuet shook his head.

“Got her nice and drunk, put her in bed and drugged her.” He informed him cheekily and Joly kissed him back.

“Not too much, right? Don’t want to kill her.”

“She’ll wake up feeling like hell tomorrow.” Bossuet promised against Joly’s lips and Feuilly cleared his throat.

“Courfeyrac and Eponine are already inside. You ready?” Feuilly asked Joly, who nodded. Bossuet handed Joly the entry card and the little doctor stepped into the building.

“Wait.” Joly was stopped at the door by a guard. “Who’s this?” He asked, pointing to Feuilly.

“My intern.” Joly replied easily and gave the guard a look. The guard grunted, but let Feuilly by as well.

They continued walking through aisles of guards. “‘Intern’, my ass. I look old enough to be your uncle.” Feuilly muttered.

“Guess I’m a child prodigy then.” Joly responded and smiled at the next man they approached. “Dr. Thorn. I’m here for—”

“We know why you’re here.” The man snapped and gestured in front of him. “Right this way.” When they reached the next door, another guard began frisking an unexpecting Joly, who yelped, but then complied. Feuilly tensed until they were finished and then gave them an uncomfortable look.

Inside, two guards walked them through the next long hallway and then stopped outside the door. “Do you know what to do?” The woman asked Joly, who knocked her out with two punches. Feuilly simultaneously knocked out the other guard with one left hook.

“Getting old?” Feuilly asked and Joly raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who’s who’s uncle now?” Joly asked and Feuilly rolled his eyes with a smile, but used the woman’s entry card to open the door. Inside, Combeferre was sitting face down at a desk with his hands cuffed together.

“Combeferre?” Joly rushed forward and checked the man’s vitals as Combeferre groaned and sat up. His face was black and blue and he was missing two fingers. Joly gasped.

“Time to go.” Feuilly told Joly and helped him lift Combeferre. “I’m not going to be able to get us out while carrying him.” Feuilly remarked and Joly cursed the fact that he was short, but pulled out his phone to call Bossuet.

“Make a commotion?” Joly asked. A few seconds later, the fire alarm sounded and they were drenched with water. Feuilly gasped in surprise, but they kept going.

Out front, they saw Eponine and Courfeyrac glaring at Bossuet, who was decidedly ignoring them. He smiled when he saw Joly, but that smile quickly disappeared when he saw what state Combeferre was in. Bossuet helped pulled Combeferre into the car and Courfeyrac sped away.


	36. Teardrops of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras argues his point with his family. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced torture and sex.

_"And I can't forget your style or your cynicism_  
_Somehow it was like you were the first to listen to everything we said_  
_My smile's an open wound without you_  
_And my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back"_

_-"Homesick at Space Camp" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

“Combeferre?” Enjolras called when he saw the car pull up out front. He ran outside to greet his friends and Eponine pushed him back.

“Wait a second, spaz. He needs some air.” She informed him and Enjolras watched as Feuilly carried Combeferre out of the car. Enjolras followed them into the living room and sat on the floor beside Combeferre, who was laid on the couch.

“Combeferre, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Enjolras repeated again and again, clutching Combeferre’s hand and then realizing that he was missing two fingers. “They’ll grow back, I promise. And it doesn’t hurt.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Feuilly asked and Enjolras avoided eye contact.

“They’re looking at the files.” He remarked and Feuilly narrowed his eyes, sensing something off.

“Ha!” Musichetta appeared and Enjolras winced. “I was looking at files. Grantaire is blowing off steam in the backyard because Enjolras thought it would be a good idea to risk the entire trip to assassinate the president.”

“You couldn’t have waited until I left the room to tell them that?” Enjolras grumbled and felt himself pulled up onto his feet and punched in the face by Courfeyrac. He grunted and went to return the swing, but was held back by Bossuet as Courfeyrac turned away and let Joly work on nursing Combeferre’s wounds. All Joly could really do for Combeferre was ease the pain.

“Nope. I knew that someone would want to punish you and I don’t have a very strong right hook.” Musichetta answered as Enjolras glared.

“Aren’t I being punished enough?” Enjolras questioned, and yanked himself out of Bossuet’s grip.

“No, because you two will make up and go have sex upstairs within an hour.” Courfeyrac snapped and Enjolras stared at him in surprise. “Go!” Courfeyrac pointed out of the living room. Enjolras just stood there in shock, but Courfeyrac pushed him out of the room. “Get out!”

Enjolras stomped out into the backyard to find Grantaire beating up a punching bag. Grantaire didn’t turn to his boyfriend immediately, but waited a few seconds. When he was ready, he turned and breathed for a moment before speaking. “What happened to your face?”

“Courfeyrac did what you wanted to do.” Enjolras grumbled.

“Poor baby.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and Enjolras glared back. “Stop pouting and grow up. I saw it in your eyes when you ignored me. You knew I’d be upset and you did it anyway.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly have time to talk over the issue.”

“It had already been talked about, Enjolras. And you knew you wouldn’t have time to discuss it; that’s why you left it ‘til then to mention it again.” Grantaire slammed his fist into the punching bag again and Enjolras sighed.

“Actually, I was hoping that you’d stay with Musichetta.” Enjolras muttered.  

“I don’t even know how to respond to that, Enjolras. You’re a manipulative jackass.” Grantaire snapped and Enjolras was silent as he thought this through.

“I got the job done.”

“Without any consideration for your family. Now, Musichetta’s going to have to walk on egg shells that were already cracked.” Grantaire threw a few more punches. “ _You_ put her in danger, Enjolras. I hope you realize that.”

“Yes! I do realize that! And I’ve been beaten up and yelled at by several of you all now! Will you please just give me a break?” Enjolras barked and Grantaire stopped to look at him in exasperation.

“No. Had you not realized this before, like, when I told you the first time?”

“I realized, but I measured the risks and determined that this would give us the greatest success.”

“So Musichetta’s life isn’t as important as your cause?”

“One person’s life is never as important as thousands, Grantaire!” Enjolras barked back.

“And me?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, waiting for Enjolras to get it, but Enjolras continued, practically talking over him.

“You? You’re different.” Enjolras informed him.

“You wouldn’t risk my life to further your cause.” Grantaire led and began to wonder if he broke Enjolras.

“Never you. No.” Enjolras looked broken at this point and Grantaire couldn’t tell if he wanted to hug the man or bang his head against a wall until he understood.

“Don’t you see how hypocritical that is?” Grantaire stepped away from the punching bag, collapsing in on himself as he tried to reach a level of comprehension within Enjolras.

“No! You are– I love you, Grantaire!” Enjolras stepped forward, his eyes wild and hurt.

“And your friends are worth less?”

“No!” Enjolras took a step back as Grantaire approached him.

“That’s what you’re saying, Enjolras!” Grantaire cursed. “Don’t you listen to yourself?”

“Grantaire!” Enjolras screeched and Grantaire winced, feeling the pain in his voice. He stopped and watched as Enjolras shook, forcing himself to breathe. He covered his face with his hands and finally took a deep breath, looking back at Grantaire. “I knew there would be risks. I also knew how to get around them. I still do. I knew that none of you would agree with me because you would think that I couldn’t do it. Well, I did it. So, now, we deal.”

“Your abilities have never been doubted—”

“My heart has.” Enjolras interrupted and Grantaire thought about this. “I—I’m not motivated…enough...anymore. You know that; you said so yourself. I—I don’t understand…I can’t. I won’t…” Enjolras choked down a sob and Grantaire stood a few feet away, simply watching him break. “I won’t let myself lose you. That’s the end of it. I will fight this war for these people because I know it’s the right thing to do, but as soon as it risks your life, they can all go to hell because I’m not giving you up. For anything.” Enjolras explained and Grantaire gulped.

“Combeferre?” Grantaire suggested and Enjolras rolled his eyes feebly.

“It would weird you out to know that I feel similarly for all my friends.” Enjolras informed him and Grantaire chuckled, finally wrapping his arms around Enjolras.

“But not Musichetta?” Grantaire grumbled.

“Including Musichetta, Grantaire! I knew there was no real risk.” Enjolras whimpered in exasperation and Grantaire sighed, resting his cheek against Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Your passion makes everything make sense. Everything about you, anyway.” Grantaire explained.

“You’re sweaty and gross.” Enjolras commented after a few seconds.

“I was holding you when you were un-decaying on the floor of a bar; I think you can deal.” Grantaire muttered into his shoulder and Enjolras hugged him back.


	37. Drown the Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta and Bossuet broadcast the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture mentioned, depiction of schizophrenic character with other symptoms, and PTSD roughly described.

  _"And I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams  
But they're not quite what they seem"_

_-"Uma Thurman" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

“ _The death of President Luego came as a surprise to all last night when a break in at the President’s House turned into an assassination. It can only be assumed that the Patriot is behind this death.”_ Musichetta explained as Enjolras and Grantaire watched with worrisome eyes. They could hear the TV in Combeferre’s room echoing the words of Musichetta’s in theirs, but neither couple felt the need to join up. Jehan, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Joly were all present at the studio to deliver what information had been found to the general public.

 _“While investigating the death of President Luego, much information has been found regarding the terrorist attacks that were revealed to be attacks from the government on the wards as a kind of purging. Many more events such as the devastation experienced two weeks ago had been planned by what can be assumed to be the president and the senate themselves.”_ Bossuet continued the explanation as the calendar that Grantaire had found on Luego’s desk appeared on the TV.

 _“The calendar depicted demonstrates when and where each attack would take place. Even more shocking is that wards were not the only intended targets. Hospitals, churches and even military camps were listed as future hits. With Luego dead, the senate alone can answer all the questions we now have for them, but the question remains, will they be answered?”_ Musichetta asked and turned to Bossuet.

 _“Next up, an inside viewing of the interrogation of a known accomplice of the Patriot._ ” Bossuet informed the audience. After a short commercial break, the words, ‘NOT INTENDED FOR YOUNGER VIEWERS. THE FACES OF THESE INDIVIDUALS HAVE BEEN EDITED OUT FOR THEIR OWN PRIVACY’ appeared on the screen and Enjolras squeezed Grantaire’s hand in his.

Enjolras and Grantaire listened in fear and tension as Combeferre refused to give these people anything on the Patriot. Even though Combeferre was denied a lawyer, the fact that he was being questioned by law enforcement was clear by the uniform the man had on. Enjolras giggled when the officer mentioned that he could demonstrate Combeferre’s faults to the media. That was Enjolras’s job, after all. And Combeferre didn’t have any faults.

However, as the interview progressed, Enjolras grew angrier. He yelped and looked away when they began to hurt Combeferre, still asking him questions that he refused to answer. Once a finger was gone, Enjolras stood and stalked out of the room. Grantaire started to follow, but then heard banging around in the upstairs living room as Enjolras threw a fit. Grantaire decided to stay put. He could hear Enjolras cursing and yelling as he crashed things around and eventually, Enjolras reentered the bedroom, slightly red in the face.

He sat down beside Grantaire and sighed. “The living room chairs need to be replaced.” He informed Grantaire smoothly and Grantaire just blinked.

“ _Up next, an interview with a survivor of one of the ward attacks._ ” Musichetta informed the viewers and there was another commercial cut.

A few seconds in, Combeferre appeared in the doorway with Eponine peering around him. “Are you okay?” Combeferre asked and Enjolras stood, hugging the eight and a half fingered man. Combeferre hugged him back worriedly and glanced at Grantaire for an explanation. Grantaire pointed to the TV and Combeferre blinked.

When Hollywood Live’s theme song played, Combeferre sat on the floor in front of Enjolras’s bed with Eponine’s head in his lap.

 _“We are here with Jehan, a survivor of one of the ward attacks. Tell us, Jehan, how did you survive?”_ Musichetta asked.

 _“I was pulled out by my doctor. My friend. And then a fireman saved me.”_ Jehan explained and Musichetta nodded.

_“And what were you thinking at that time?”_

_“The world was burning.”_

_“Yes, I suppose it was.”_ Musichetta gave him a sad glance. _“What do you think about the government’s participation in such actions?”_

 _“I think they need to think harder. We don’t want to hurt people. We_ don’t _hurt people. Especially when we’re alone in there. I like to sing songs with my friends and read books. I’m not that much different. And I have another friend,”_ Jehan paused, clearly being told not to say this friend’s name on live television, _“who has puh-tuh-sud.”_

 _“PTSD?”_ Musichetta hinted and Jehan nodded.

 _“She makes me really happy when she smiles. She has little brothers that she loves and cares for whenever she can. And when she’s sad, her boyfriend makes her smile. She loves to dance and is really good at it. She was a professional. She saved a lot of people before she had PTSD. A lot of people would be dead without her help, but she still isn’t liked because she gets scared sometimes. We all get scared sometimes, so I think it’s silly that she has to be hidden.”_  

“No way.” Eponine muttered and Grantaire smiled.

 _“What did you do before entering the ward, Jehan?”_ Musichetta asked.

_“I sang. I sang beautifully. People told me so. They said I would be famous. But then I was locked up because I was scared.”_

_“What were you scared of?”_ Musichetta stretched.

 _“All the people. It was crowded and I couldn’t breathe. And now, the world’s falling into hell.”_ Jehan explained and Enjolras winced in sorrow for his friend.

 _“Thank you, Jehan, for your visit with us, today._ ” Musichetta finished and Jehan smiled at her.

“ _You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me tell you my story._ ” He replied and she grinned at him before turning to the camera.

 _“Up next, Jehan’s doctor has a few words for us._ ”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” Combeferre’s ears perked up.

“Oh, relax. He can hardly be damning us all to hell. It’s Joly.” Eponine reminded him and Combeferre sighed.

 _“What did you have to say, Doctor?”_ Musichetta asked when the TV show came back on.

 _“I wanted to explain Jehan’s disability. He has schizophrenia, which is demonstrated by his feeling of being crowded by people when there were few people around. This is also portrayed when people hear voices that aren’t there, though Jehan doesn’t exhibit that symptom. Jehan, however, is an extreme case of anti-socialism. His presence in a ward without people who treat him as an adult caused his regression to a childlike mind. He’s never had responsibility before in his life and will never be able to fully cope with it because of how he was treated in these wards. Our best efforts to develop these patients are stinted by the government’s involvement and interference.”_ Joly finished and Enjolras cursed.

“How are they getting away with all this?” Enjolras asked.

“Bossuet knocked out the director.” Eponine answered and Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows together, but accepted that as a reality that they would have to live with.

“ _Next up, several states have been rioting against the senate and other government controlled—”_


	38. Life's Lush Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras considers what to do next while Bossuet, Grantaire and Joly remember old times. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this chapter is a reference to Book 12 'Corinthe', Chapter 2 'Preliminary Gaieties' in Les Miserables by Victor Hugo because ALLUSIONS.   
> Innuendos made (kind of), mentions of terrorist acts, and vague mentions of PTSD and self neglect.

_"Oh, I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way…_  
_Letting people down is my thing, baby_  
 _Find yourself a new gig_  
_This town ain't big enough for two of us"_

_-"Just One Yesterday" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills-Hollywood, California**

“You do realize that we now have the entire senate to go through before we can ever have a real reelection?” Combeferre asked as he scrolled through the news on his laptop. Enjolras glared at him as he made cereal.

“What’cha gonna do about that, Angé? Can’t bang down every single senate member, can you?” Courfeyrac asked as he bit into an apple and draped himself across Eponine’s lap. She pushed him onto the floor and flipped a page in her magazine.

“That did not mean what you wanted it to mean.” Grantaire announced, snapping his fingers before putting headphones in.

“We’ll make them resign.” Enjolras suggested.

“How?” Joly rolled his eyes. “Find nasty information about every single member’s family? Nobody even cares anymore. Remember Luego?”

“We’ll riot.” Enjolras sat beside Grantaire.

“You don’t condone rioting.” Feuilly pointed out.

“I do when the rioters have absolutely no chance of dying.”

“I have a chance!” Grantaire yelled in Enjolras’s ear and Enjolras pulled out his headphones.

“You will not be going.” Enjolras tapped Grantaire’s nose and Grantaire wrinkled it.

“You keep saying that and yet he manages to—”

“Stop talking, now.” Feuilly interrupted Courfeyrac, who gave him a confused glance. “I know where you were going with that.”

“I don’t.” Grantaire muttered under his breath.

“I’ll show you later.” Enjolras responded and Feuilly moaned.

“I think I should be blushing.” Grantaire commented and Enjolras chuckled, ruffling his hair.

“You could just blow up the senate.” Eponine suggested nonchalantly and all were silent. It took her a few seconds to realize the weight her words had on the room. She glanced up with innocent eyes.

“I’m not a terrorist.” Enjolras informed her weakly.

“May as well be. You’re everything else.”

“No.” Enjolras snapped.

“When you need things done—”

“Eponine.” Combeferre stopped her and she glared at him, flipping him off before going back to her magazine.

“Anyway, that would just make me an anarchist. There would be no ruling after that and the country would ground itself into utter chaos.” Enjolras pointed out, getting his steam back.

“Then what, Enjolras?” Bossuet asked, begging for the conversation to be over so he could go back to sex with his girlfriend and boyfriend.

“We could call for a revote of all members in the senate.” Enjolras suggested and Combeferre sighed.

“And how do you think you’ll manage that?”

“Just like last time, only better.”

“You mean the time when we all died and nothing came of our actions other than Marius’s PTSD eventually driving Valjean to a self-neglect-caused death?” Eponine responded in monotone, but was ignored.

“What does that mean, Enjolras?” Combeferre kept his friend going, hoping that he was going somewhere sane.

“Just us. With Marius, Cosette and Javert’s help. We can storm the castle and demand a reelection. When the people realize what we’re doing, we’ll be too far in to allow anyone else to get hurt. With all that Musichetta and Bossuet pointed out, the police will be hiding with their tails between their legs or will be helping us out.” Enjolras determined and Combeferre smiled.

-

“Oysters, cheese and ham, please.” Bossuet requested and the waitress gave him a confused glance, but did as she was asked. Grantaire smiled as he opened another beer bottle. “That’s three. Grantaire, you’re going to kill yourself.”

“That’s if Enjolras doesn’t first.” Joly added.

“Many are as smart as you two are, but none are as innocent.” Grantaire commented.

“Where does it all go?” Bossuet whispered to Joly as Grantaire began gulping the beer back.

“Same place as yours, mon ami. In your arms.” Grantaire bellowed back and Joly sneezed. “Bossuet, your coat has holes in it.” Grantaire pointed out, ignoring Joly, who had begun rubbing his nose.

“It means I like it, ‘Aire.” Bossuet replied.

“Yeah? Perhaps it’ll do poor Joly here some good, then.”

“Did Enjolras leave yet?” Joly asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know. But he better get a move on if he wants to be the first one there. This whole city wants to kill the senate members.” Grantaire commented.

“How ironic is our city of Angels.” Bossuet added.

“Yeah. Did you know that the name came from a Spanish explorer named Gaspar de Portola who established the first Spanish settlement in this area? That was…1769, I think. Anyway, the settlers named the Los Angeles River of old—you know, the one that isn’t there anymore—Rio de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles de Porciuncula which is ‘the river of our lady queen of the angels of Porciuncula’.”

“No.” Bosssuet shook his head and Grantaire blinked.

“Why would we know that?” Joly asked, blowing his nose.

“Why do _you_ know that?” Bossuet inquired.

“Ew. Can oysters go bad?” Grantaire changed the subject and Joly rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sick with you, Joly.” Grantaire poked Joly with an oyster shell.

“Hey, Grantaire, did you ever date a woman?” Bossuet asked, leaning into the table.

“Ew. Wait, what? Um, no. Why?” Grantaire stuttered and Bossuet and Joly gave each other knowing glances as they smiled.

“You don’t like women, do you?” Joly asked and Grantaire glanced at him in confusion.

“Well, I am gay.”

“What about humankind, Grantaire?” Bossuet chuckled.

“I tend to disagree with most of them.”

“And God?” Joly continued.

“I believe in Enjolras and my drink, Joly; you know that.” Grantaire was too far drunk to misunderstand this line of questioning and wonder where on earth the two men could be going with it.

“What do you think of Cosette?”

“Oh, stop tormenting the poor drunk.” Luc and Philippe had appeared, but they weren’t sure which boy the words had come from.

“Enjolras said to come tell you ‘abaisse’. What does that mean?” Luc continued.

“Those are the first three letters of the alphabet. Oyster?” Grantaire offered and Luc wrinkled his nose as Philippe stole it from Grantaire, who had moved on so quickly that he hadn’t noticed.

“Well, we’re going to go help set the stage up for when the Patriot announces that there will be a revote.” Luc decided and skipped away, pulling Philippe after him.

“I understand why Gavroche liked those two.” Grantaire commented and Joly and Bossuet looked at him in curiosity.

“Abaisse. Enjolras wants our help.” Bossuet commented and Grantaire wondered as to how he had reached that conclusion.

“It’s raining.” Joly whispered and Bossuet chuckled. Grantaire looked outside.

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, I guess we’ve sworn go through fire and water with Enjolras, haven’t we, Grantaire?” Joly asked, but Grantaire was still trying to figure out where Joly saw rain as he followed the men out of the store.


	39. Shadow Over You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get their revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death.

_"As the crooked smiles fade_  
 _Former heroes who quit too late_  
 _Just wanna fill up the trophy case again_ "

_-"Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Hollywood, California**

When they reached the President’s House, they saw Enjolras standing on the stage out front. It was dead quiet as Enjolras spoke. “A revote will allow us to choose our members rather than have them forced upon us. If we attack these people, our country will become anarchical, which will lead to chaos. Anyone could kill anyone at that point and—” The crowd’s murmuring had grown louder. “Hey! Everyone needs to go home. Now. Ballots will be passed out to each citizen as was done in the past.”

“What do you know of the past?” A voice called from the crowd, but the crowd seemed to consume the voice as it roared over it in anger.

“Stop! Stop!” Enjolras cried. “Nobody needs to die today. Please. Go home.” He begged, but the crowd wasn’t listening anymore.

Bossuet watched as the two layers to this crowd converged. The front one stood around Enjolras, protecting him and the House, while the other forced forward to attack. He rushed into the fight, trying to reach Enjolras and saw Grantaire and Joly right behind him.

“Protecting our enemies!” Voices cried around them. “What do you stand for anymore?”

“Peace! Always peace!” Bossuet shouted back, but no one heard him.

When he reached Feuilly, he held out his arms to the man, who pulled him into the more peaceable side of the crowd. “Bossuet? Check your phone!” Feuilly demanded and shoved Bossuet as far back as possible.

Bossuet tripped with a grunt, but Grantaire pulled him back onto his feet as they emerged onto the stage. “Seriously, Bossuet?” Grantaire asked as he pulled out his phone, but Bossuet held up a finger to shush him.

“Enjolras wants us around back.” He commented and Grantaire groaned.

“Let’s go this way.” He decided, pointing to the house rather than back at the crowd. At that moment, Cosette appeared, carrying a slumped and bloodied Marius.

“Help me! Please!” She begged and Grantaire knelt down to lift Marius from her arms. They all hurried back into the building and laid Marius down on the couch.

“What are you guys doing?” Enjolras asked when they appeared inside, but Joly was already hard at work, trying to save Marius. Grantaire looked over to see Enjolras standing in front of a hallway in which a large number of people were standing.

“He—he was knocked out and…I couldn’t—I could—couldn’t get him off the floor.” Cosette sobbed as Bossuet held her in his arms, rocking her slightly as he cooed. After a few tense moments, Joly stepped away from Marius, shaking his head. He looked up carefully, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he began working on Cosette, who was almost equally beaten up.

“Too many lives have already been lost.” Enjolras was shaking. Grantaire stepped forward, placing his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder and moving him aside.

“Where are we taking them?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras glanced back at the group of senators.

“Maybe we should just kill them.” Enjolras whispered harshly and Grantaire looked over to see the senators tense at his words.

“That wouldn’t be just.” Grantaire reminded him.

“Yes! Yes, it would!” Enjolras hissed back. “All these people are gone.” Enjolras commented and Grantaire shook his head.

“Killing more won’t bring them back.” Grantaire reminded him and Enjolras snapped to attention.

“Where are the marriage licenses?” Enjolras barked at the senators, who stared back in fear. “Where?”

“Drawer upstairs.” A woman answered.

“Ep’s got a car out back.” Enjolras demanded to Grantaire and then took the speaker’s arm, carting her up the stairs.

“The rest of you, come on!” Grantaire motioned and they followed him silently. “Go.” Grantaire pointed to the car, but one woman stopped.

“What about Jessie?” She asked, gesturing to the House.

“You have my word, she will be fine. People willing to speak up around the Patriot will not be persecuted because of it.” Grantaire remarked and the woman nodded, rushing off to the car with the rest of them. Grantaire watched as the car then drove away and then he rushed back into the house.  

He was met with a crowd continuing to fight back the others. “Come on!” Grantaire shouted to the group defending Enjolras. They hurried out the back door, allowing the others to have full reign of the house. Grantaire himself stood tall above the crowd by hanging on a beam. When the stampede ceased, he jumped down and began looking for Joly and Bossuet. He texted Bossuet, happy now that Bossuet knew to have his phone readily available. Upstairs. They were upstairs. Which floor?

Grantaire found an elevator and took it to the attic. He paced back and forth as it slowly crept up the side of the building. Enjolras’s man-made elevator had worked much faster and that was just Enjolras’s strength. After arriving, Grantaire pressed all the buttons to be sure that the elevator wouldn’t be active any time soon. Still, he was almost punched by Bossuet when he emerged. “Woah!” Grantaire gave his friend a look and Bossuet returned it.

“Sorry.” Bossuet muttered. “Just Grantaire!” He called into the room and Grantaire turned the corner to see Enjolras working hard to help Marius sign a document. Cosette was sobbing as she watched, but finally, Enjolras stepped away.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Enjolras informed them and Cosette pecked Marius on the lips before holding his head in her hands. Grantaire bit his lip, watching as Marius struggled to breathe.

“His lungs collapsed.” Joly informed him, appearing out of nowhere. Grantaire was too high strung to have been surprised by his shaky voice. Instead, he watched as Bossuet hugged him close.

“Courfeyrac?” Marius called, but Courfeyrac wasn’t here.

“He’s not here, Marius.” Enjolras replied.

“Enjolras? Enj…” Marius continued and Enjolras watched him stoically. “Did I help? Did…I saved my friends?” He asked.

“Yes.” Enjolras whispered back and Marius gave a small smile.

“I love you.” Marius told Cosette, who continued sobbing, barely managing to choke out a response. When he was gone, they all could tell by Cosette’s reaction. Enjolras turned to the woman who had shown him where the marriage documents were, but Grantaire placed a hand on his arm.

“She was nothing but helpful.” Grantaire reminded him and watched as Enjolras’s fiery eyes faded.

“Thank you.” Enjolras told the woman, who was glaring back as she shook. “We’ll take you to safety now.” He informed the woman, who gave a slight nod. Then, Enjolras turned to Grantaire and pulled him away from the group.

In the corner of the attic, amongst the cobwebs and dust, Enjolras kissed him. It was hard and fast, but Grantaire could feel all the passion behind it, which seemed to be all that Enjolras wanted to present him with.

“We’re free.” Enjolras whispered against his shoulder. An eavesdropping ear would not understand the thick meaning of those two words that Enjolras uttered; however, nor could they doubt the meaning there. All that Enjolras had ever aspired to had been accomplished and he knew it.

He knew it.


	40. Sour Sips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac and Cosette talk about Marius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Opheliac kind of grief over a loved one's death, discussing death and how to overcome it.

_"I’m not the way you think I am, no"_

_-"Pretty in Punk" by Fall Out Boy_

**2080, Beverly Hills, California**

Courfeyrac stood in the doorway of the living room, watching as the senators shook and cried, but rarely spoke. He wanted to ease the tension, but a joke about wanting them dead a few hours ago would probably give at least two of them a heart attack.

“What exactly are we going to do here?” Eponine asked Courfeyrac, appearing with a cup of water for him.

“I guess the FBI and Secret Service are coming to give them new identities. Because Enjolras can’t do that well enough?” Courfeyrac made a face and Eponine smirked back. “Anyway, I don’t think they’ll all like that idea very much. I bet you at least three of them will want to run for the election.”

“They couldn’t be that stupid.” Eponine gave him a look and Courfeyrac shrugged.

“I’m just surprised that Enjolras didn’t kill them when he first saw them.”

“Don’t count your chicks, yet. He’s still got one hostage.” Eponine muttered and walked past him, offering water to their so-called guests.

Soon, the rest of the team returned home with the remaining hostage in perfect form. The woman sat down beside another woman, taking her hand. Enjolras looked at Joly and Feuilly who were covered in Marius’s blood. Combeferre had entered the house only to wrap his arms around Eponine and he hadn’t moved since. When Courfeyrac saw the state that Cosette was in, he stepped forward and held her tightly, not letting her fall apart anymore than she already had. Enjolras breathed in deeply and entered the living room to explain the situation they were in to the senators.

Cosette was still shaking in Courfeyrac’s arms as he led her into the back living room and sat her down on the couch. She didn’t let him go, so he held onto her, cooing slightly as he rocked her back and forth. “Do you remember?” Courfeyrac asked and Cosette was silent as she sobbed. “I’ve lived many lives with Marius and he has never ceased to amaze me. The first time I met him,” Courfeyrac gave a slight chuckle, “he walked into a room of Enjolras’s friends and started talking about how great the monarchy was. If you know Enjolras, you know that didn’t go over well. But man, that kid had guts. He stood up for things he didn’t believe in because he loved the people who did.”

“He always has. That’s what got him killed today.” Cosette whimpered back. “I let him die.”

“Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past three centuries or so, it’s that we are rarely the causes of things that we think we are. People make their own decisions and we try to blame ourselves because then we are justified for feeling terrible, but that’s not really why. We feel bad because we’ve lost something. It’s as simple as that. And I know, we never want it to be that simple, but…it is. Simple things hurt the most because we expected it to be bigger. Some big mystical reason why we hurt and when it isn’t, it feels meaningless. Everyone’s felt this, which should be a comfort because that means we can get through it. But it isn’t. Not always. But…guess what?” Courfeyrac shifted slightly so he could see the pain in Cosette’s face. The same pain that always covered her face when someone she loved died. He would recognize that pain anywhere. “Cosette, I will always be here for you. I was always there for Marius and now, I am happy to be there for you whenever you need me to be.”  

“Can you call my mom? She’ll want to know…that I’m okay.” Cosette whimpered, pulling her phone out of her back pocket and Courfeyrac sighed internally. She was rested across his lap with her head against his collarbone, but he managed to take it from her.

“Yes.”

“Courfeyrac.” Cosette breathed shakily. “You lost a friend today, too.” She commented and Courfeyrac nodded slowly.

“I didn’t know him as well this time around though.” He informed her.

“But…I’ve heard you guys…and my dad talking about goals? Like, certain things you do that mean you won’t come back. Because we’re reincarnated and you never really die and things like that.” She explained to him and he nodded against her hair. “Is Marius coming back?” She asked, her voice thick with emotion and Courfeyrac winced.

“In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never discovered what he really wanted. What his goal was. I thought it was to be happy with you, but in all honesty, you guys were happy the first time through. Other than the way he treated your…Valjean. Combeferre thought that he maybe needed to get to know me. You know, have a legit long lasting friendship.” Courfeyrac sighed, pressing his lips together. “You know him best, Cosette. You always have. What do you think?”

“I don’t think anybody noticed his death until his heart stopped beating, but he always died long before then. When his friends died, he did too. They just—we just assumed his corpse was him and he continued the façade until his heart gave out.” Cosette gagged out, turning pale as a sheet.

“Cosette—”

“No, no, you listen, Courfeyrac. He wasn’t placed in a coffin to rest until every part of him was worn into the ground. This time through…when I knew him before the deaths of his friends, of you all, there was a light in his eyes that was never there when you all were gone.”

“You were his sunshine, Cosette.”

“Yes.” Cosette gave Courfeyrac the world’s saddest smile. “And he was my moon.” She informed him and then curled up on his lap. “He’s happy now. He’s not a puppet portraying the lives of his friends while his friends are dead. The puppet’s dead and now the pain is gone. His debt is paid. He’s safe.” She whimpered out the words as if singing a song as she fell asleep.

Courfeyrac called up Fantine, informing her that Cosette was all right and safe at their house. He also informed her of Marius’s death, figuring that Cosette probably didn’t want to have to break that news to her parents when she barely seemed capable of admitting it to herself.

Then he sat quietly, allowing her to sleep and dream of a Marius who was alive without the death of his friends permeating his every movement.


	41. Americana Exotica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After affects of the revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD symptoms and mention of death.

_"I served out my detention_  
_And in the end I got an honorable mention_  
_In the movie of my life_  
_Starring you i_ _nstead of me_  
_When the moonlight_  
_Hits your bright eyes I go blind_  
_…_  
_I burnt out my defensive_  
_Now everything I say is taken as offensive"_

_-"Honorable Mention" by Fall Out Boy_

**~Epilogue~**

Why didn’t Enjolras act like he knew it?

Rarely had he ever let Grantaire step more than a few feet away from him since the ‘revolution’, as the news was calling it. Which Enjolras happily rubbed in Javert’s face. Still, there would be moments in which Enjolras shied away from the pharmacy that had been set up. Or he would duck his head around authority figures. Little antics showed that Enjolras was forever affected by his passion’s ascending or descent.

Primarily, those reincarnated had the most problems adapting, copying Enjolras’s wary actions. Combeferre ended up having to get everyone’s medication. Joly and Feuilly would comfort people in their flashbacks. Those who had been alive since the nineteenth century had fewer issues; they simply regressed back to the early twenty first century.

Enjolras was physically wrapped around Grantaire as they sat on the couch a few months later. “Oh, come on! Who believes this crap?” Enjolras barked at the TV.

“I thought you liked Joshua Tarr.” Grantaire commented, running his fingers through Enjolras’s hair.

“Yeah. But he’s so overdramatic. Tries too hard.”

“That does tend to occur when you’re brought up in a world in which everyone worships drama. Anyway, people eat this stuff up.” Grantaire motioned to the TV where Joshua was explaining his horrible past and Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hand, playing with his fingers. 

“It’s stupid.”

“Eventually, people will develop. It’ll be okay, Enjolras.”

“I hope he wins.” Enjolras commented monotonously.

“I know.”

“I hope people stop writing my name on the ballots.” Enjolras continued equally as monotonously as before.

“I know.” Grantaire stopped himself from smirking at this god of a man reduced to a whiny child at the sight of his wishes being fulfilled incorrectly.

When the channel began criticizing everything the Patriot had ever done, Enjolras turned the TV off. He was used to it. Everything that he had once been worshipped for was now being condemned as anarchical and therefore, hypocritical. Enjolras didn’t care. He had kept his face covered, so there was no way for him to be convicted or called in for questioning. He could still anonymously go out at nights and play superhero to the occasional held up bank or suicidal mourner.

At first, Enjolras had tried defending himself against the hateful words—

 “That’s not what I meant. Way to take things out of context!” Enjolras snapped at the television once, throwing cereal at it. Courfeyrac glanced at him in dumbfounded surprise.

“Enjolras, it’s the media; what did you expect?” Combeferre responded.

“I’ve never done anything but help these people and now they’re looking for relational scandals? Come on!” The media had shown pictures of the Patriot standing with Combeferre and Marius. Unfortunately, they had made Combeferre famous, even matching his voice to the video of his interrogation. In response, Combeferre had let his hair grow out, dying it black, and he stopped using glasses. Those who did recognize him thanked him for his commitment to the cause.

—but he had gotten over it when he was reminded that everyone was safe again. Nevertheless, he was one to wake up in a cold sweat at the idea of Grantaire dying. Grantaire had officially moved into Enjolras’s room, waking him from nightmares and reminding him of the safety he now had.

Eventually, Joshua Tarr was elected president. Enjolras still found ways to complain about the man, but overall complained about those who disagreed with him. When the media asked for a comment from the Patriot, Enjolras would send in anonymous mail as requested. However, it was rarely released to the public seeing as Enjolras wrote like someone from the nineteenth century when he wasn’t writing music.

“Why haven’t they released my statement?” Enjolras asked as he read through an article online.

“Because it was written in ancient French.” Feuilly commented through his cereal.

“It was English. You understood it, didn’t you?” Enjolras asked and Feuilly made a noncommittal noise into his water cup. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re just as old as I am.”

“Older.” Feuilly remarked and Enjolras raised an eyebrow in confusion. “However, I have grown with the times.”

“How could you? That’s exactly what we fight against.” Enjolras muttered back.

“Are you fighting for language rights now?” Grantaire intervened and Feuilly gave him a look as Enjolras began a speech on the importance of continuing sufficient education for children.

“How could you deny your past’s education and where you came from, Feuilly? Why have you let yourself fall to their level of understanding? You’ve—” Courfeyrac had walked in during this speech and randomly covered Enjolras’s mouth with his hand, holding it there until Enjolras stopped struggling. When the hand was removed, Enjolras stood and spat, “I could take you!” Grantaire cracked up and Feuilly walked out of the room.

Since Marble Liberty was publically ‘dead’, Enjolras couldn’t sing as him anymore. However, he assisted Cosette in song writing and occasionally sang with her on her albums. Florence had seemingly adopted her as his new employer. Following Marius’s death, Cosette continued her work as a solo artist, but did occasionally feature ‘Enjolras’, or ‘the dude with the French name’, sometimes known as ‘Angel’, to which Courfeyrac had no trouble pointing out that he now had more names in one century than he had had in the two prior.

Enjolras’s rock style had changed to an indie-folk style, continuing his poetic writing and editing Marble Liberty’s songs to match his new style. He enjoyed it as a hobby and would rope his friends into singing, dancing or playing an instrument in his videos on YouTube.

“Let’s see.” Combeferre pulled out the paper from more than a century ago. When Grantaire had died the second time, he and Enjolras had worked hard on discovering who needed what to happen for them to die and not come back. The paper had been written on, typed on, torn up and glued back together. Enjolras tried to write down what they discovered on a new sheet of paper, but it mysteriously never lasted as long as Combeferre’s.

“The successful revolution. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Feuilly.” Combeferre connected.

“And Jehan.” Jehan announced and Combeferre glanced at him hopefully.

“And Joly and Bossuet!” Joly added, giving his doctor friend a look. Enjolras watched as Combeferre warily crossed out ‘live peacefully’ from beside Jehan’s name. He watched Joly and Bossuet for a moment longer and then placed a check beside ‘live happily ever after’.

Then Combeferre cleared his throat. “Grantaire, Eponine. Requited love.”

“Wow.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and Combeferre blinked at him.

“You don’t think so?”

“I had requited love last time. Didn’t I?” Grantaire placed his hand on Enjolras’s face to stop him from asking about Grantaire’s memories. Courfeyrac had started this trend and they were happy to find a successful way of shutting Enjolras up.

“Kind of. But you didn’t get it for very long.”

“How about being proven wrong?” Grantaire smirked and Combeferre stared for a moment longer.

“And have you?” He asked and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“It’s in the making.” He pointed out as Feuilly muttered something about stupid politicians on his phone.

“Um, ‘kay.” Combeferre’s pen floated over Grantaire’s name before placing a dot beside it and moving on. “Bahorel?”

“I was badass.” He informed them as he sipped on a beer and Grantaire chuckled.

“You’ve always been badass.” Enjolras added with a smile.

“Then why am I here?” Bahorel asked as if that logic explained itself. Combeferre just placed a check beside Bahorel’s name and the word ‘revolution’.

“Musichetta?” Combeferre turned to her with a smile and she grinned back.

“Fairy tale life.” She informed him and he thought about this. She had been killed for her beliefs, for her actions and because of her misery, so this would make sense. Living happily with Bossuet and Joly would be her fairy tale along with assisting in a successful revolution.

“Then Cosette grew up in a loving home. Fantine raised Cosette. Marius died for his friends. Javert showed mercy. Gavroche saved his brothers.” Combeferre determined and they collectively sighed in relief.

“How do we know if we’re really aging now?” Enjolras asked as he sat beside Grantaire.

“Is that a gray hair?” Grantaire asked as he played with Enjolras’s hair.

“Really?” Enjolras sat up and hurried toward the mirror, looking with excitement as Grantaire chuckled.

“Only you, Enjolras.” He commented and Enjolras played with his face as if expecting wrinkles to show up.

“Would you look at that?” Combeferre commented as Eponine sat down in his lap and he kissed her cheek. “We can finally live happily ever after.”

“Together.” Musichetta added and Enjolras beamed, turning to kiss Grantaire.

“Together.”

_**And they lived happily ever after and eventually died of old age.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this. Non/Critical comments are happily accepted.


End file.
